


Eclipsed by the Sun

by Catw00man, Zippit



Series: Promise Filled Sky [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Another Road Traveled Universe, Community: big_bigbang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 76,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catw00man/pseuds/Catw00man, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zippit/pseuds/Zippit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After facing Lust under the Third Laboratory, Roy and Ed have teamed up to learn more about the homunculi while waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the process they find themselves learning more about each other and seeing past differences that have divided them for years. Will these welcome distractions tear them apart or bring new and unexpected possibilities for them both?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [Another Road Traveled](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Another_Road_Traveled) collection and is the second part of the verse and follows [A New Dawn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/498429/). Please see that collection for all other works connected with this story.
> 
> We had the wonderful good fortune to be teamed up with the very talented artist [**Aquerna**](http://aquerna.livejournal.com/) who created some gorgeous artwork for this story. You can see this beautiful work at the end of this chapter and chapter six. A huge thank you goes out to Aquerna from both of us!
> 
> Written for the 2012 round of [big_bigbang](http://big_bigbang.livejournal.com).   
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New artwork added to the end of this chapter! YAY!

It’s official. This day couldn’t get any weirder.

Ed pushes out of his chair at Mustang’s kitchen table and he still can’t believe he’s in the Colonel’s house. The fact he just had dinner with him, a dinner he helped cook, still doesn’t completely register either. If only that was the strangest part of the evening. The way things are going he feels like he’s in for a lot more surprises. He follows Mustang out of the kitchen and bores holes in the back of his white shirt with his stare. He doesn’t trust him. Not even a little bit, but something has definitely changed between them. For some reason Mustang actually _talked_ to him, like a real person, and he still doesn’t understand why.

“A mutual understanding,” isn’t that what he said he wanted? Al won’t be happy about letting someone else into this, but considering the homunculi seem to be counting Mustang as a sacrifice now, he’s probably right about already being involved. But that doesn’t mean Ed has to like it. There’s more to this sudden change in attitude than what Mustang’s saying. He’d bet his remaining flesh and blood arm on it. But until he knows what that something else is “a mutual understanding” is probably doable, for now anyway. It’s not like he has much choice.

But he still doesn’t trust him.

Ed stops short, nearly running into Mustang when he pauses in front of the closed door on the left side of the hall. He expected him to just walk in but apparently the door is locked or something. Why would he have the door locked in his own house? Is this for his benefit? Ed scowls and crosses his arms as he leans against the stairway railing behind him. The weird, anal retentive Colonel produces a key from his pocket and Ed rolls his eyes until the familiar tingle of alchemy draws his attention back to the door. 

Was that an alchemic reaction? The door opens under Mustang’s hand, but did he do something with his left hand as his right turned the key? Damnit, he didn’t know he needed to pay attention to the bastard unlocking the door! Why the fuck can’t anything with the stupid Colonel be simple?

Mustang walks into the dark room and Ed hurries after him to stare at the door, but he doesn’t see anything special. It just looks like a damn door. Stupid, bastard Colonel. Only he would have some kind of special alchemic door lock. He fists his hands and considers asking what the hell that was, but he thinks better of it. He’s not here to learn about alchemic doors. Mustang’s already letting him into his apparently very secure private library and he doesn’t need to be racking up even more debt to the bastard than he already has. He’ll just have to get a closer look at the door another time…preferably when Mustang isn’t watching.

The light in the room flicks on and Ed’s eyes widen when he sees the size of the room. It’s much bigger than he expected, but considering it probably takes up the entire first floor besides the kitchen it makes sense. He just didn’t expect it to be so nice with how sparse the rest of the house seemed. Ed stares straight across a sitting area consisting of a couch facing a couple high backed chairs in front of a large, brick fireplace. There’s a low coffee table between the couch and chairs and on the wooden mantle over the fireplace Ed finally sees the first personal touches in the form of a few pictures in well-worn frames. It’s obvious this is the room Mustang cares about and maybe that explains the extra security. It’d be such a shame for people to know the cold bastard actually had a personality.

“Feel free to look around, Fullmetal. Just don’t touch the cabinet in the corner.” Ed whips his head around to ask why he’d make something off limits at this point but the stern look on Mustang’s face stays his tongue, for the moment. “And please remember what I said about this collection; don’t mention anything you see here anywhere else.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Ed waves his hand flippantly and walks toward the couch to his left and the bookcases surrounding it on three sides. This side of the room’s obviously the main part of the library though there is another bookcase framing the opposite side of the fireplace. It’s only when he reaches the walls of books that he realizes the shelves are built into them. It’s impressive and would take a master craftsman to have done it, unless… “You did this all yourself, didn’t you?”

He looks back over his shoulder for conformation but Mustang isn’t paying attention to him anymore. He’s sat down at a desk in the far corner to the right of the fireplace and makes a dismissive motion with his hand. He’s looking down at an open book in front of him but Ed doesn’t miss the slight upturn of his lips. Oh yeah, he did this room himself with alchemy no doubt. It would make sense if he didn’t want anyone to know what he had in here, but why is that such a big deal? Is it all about downplaying his true alchemic abilities? There really is a lot more to the Colonel than he ever expected and it’s seriously getting under his skin. How did he miss so much?

Ed shrugs and turns back to the bookcase that runs along the wall adjacent to the hallway. He scans over the dozens and dozens of bound volumes and sees that many of them don’t concern alchemy. They’re books on history, politics, military strategies, and nothing that’s going to help him now. He doesn’t know much about those books but he gets the sense it’s a thorough collection. Who knew Mustang was a collector? He could easily access most of these texts in the library. Is he really so concerned about what people might see him reading? Ed shakes his head and gives a mental “whatever” because it’s probably just Mustang not wanting to tarnish his reputation as a ladies’ man by looking like he actually has a brain. Well, one that doesn’t live in his pants anyway.

Ed turns to the long back wall behind the couch that separates the library from the kitchen. It’s completely covered in books. Hopefully he won’t need to reach any on the top shelves because there’s no way he’ll get them without climbing on something. Stupid, tall bastard. Knowing him he probably put all the good stuff up high too. Ed scans through the rows of books and his eyes widen more with each passing second. These aren’t just basic alchemic texts, though there are a fair amount of those too. These are _rare_ , some of which he’s never even _seen_ before!

“Shit, Mustang. Where did you even—is that Alsayer’s Compendium? And Ecklson’s Theories On…. You have Gruene’s Anthology?! I thought the last copy of that was burned in the First Central Library!” Ed spins around to find Mustang’s turned in his desk chair to watch him. The look on his face is unreadable. It’s not smug the way he expected. If anything he looks pensive, or reserved. He really is protective of this stuff. Considering the military has proved itself more than capable of burning down libraries to keep secrets he’s starting to understand why Mustang’s so edgy. He shakes his head at him more impressed than he wants to admit. “Mustang, half of this stuff I’ve only ever seen _referenced_. Why didn’t you ever tell me—”

“And just how much would you value these resources if I had?” Ed scowls at the matter of fact tone and feels the familiar anger where Mustang’s concerned build inside him. “Edward, you’ve run across resources in your research that I’d never even seen. During your travels you’ve amassed a knowledge base that even I envy. If I’d handed this to you right away that never would've happened.” His lips turn up in a slight smirk as he leans back in his chair. “Not to mention you never would’ve appreciated it.”

“Bastard,” Ed grumbles as he turns back to the books because he knows he has a point. It’s just like what he was saying in the kitchen about how he’s been influencing him indirectly all these years. The very idea that he’s been a puppet on a string still makes his blood boil, but where would he be otherwise? Until Mustang and Hawkeye showed up in Resembool he’d never considered becoming a military dog. Now, looking over some of these books, he knows where Mustang got some of those fact finding missions he sent him on. There’s no doubt Ed’s helped him flesh out this library some, but there’s so much more here than just alchemy.

He makes his way to the shelf to the left of the fireplace, skipping the cabinet built into the corner for the moment, and sees books filled with more obscure histories including ones about places other than Amestris. How could Mustang possibly have time to go through all of these? Ed runs his fingers along the spines of a few that look like they’ve never been opened. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe he _hasn’t_ been able to pour over everything he’s collected. Could that be why he’s finally invited Ed here? Just how much of this is about trust and how much is about needing Ed to sort through all his crap? He may never know, but he’s not going to dwell on it, not when there are so many enticing resources at his fingertips.

Ed turns back to the alchemy shelves on the back wall and spares a longer glance to the cabinet built into the corner. It consists of a solid wooden door that stretches between the ends of the shelves on the adjacent walls. The inside of the cabinet would have to be triangular to fit in the corner, but Ed has a feeling it’s probably deeper than it looks. The door has ornate carvings running along all four sides and Ed squints at them because they seem vaguely familiar. He shakes his head at the odd thought then finally snatches up a few books from the shelves on the back wall. He makes sure to grab Gruene’s Anthology because he knows that’s something Al’s wanted to see and he can take down some notes for him. He’ll be damned if he deprives Al just to keep Mustang happy.

He makes his way back to the sitting area in front of the fireplace and flops down on the couch. It’s sturdy and more comfortable than he expected. He sets the books on the low table in front of him then pulls out papers from his coat for note taking. Despite what Mustang might think, when it comes to research, he always tries to be prepared. Ed reaches over to grab the anthology then stretches out on the couch. It’ll take him a bit of time to sift through the huge volume to find what he’s looking for, but before he gets started he glances at the rest of the room.

There’s another small bookcase on the other side of the fireplace next to Mustang’s desk. He’ll need to check that one out later, preferably when Mustang’s not sitting right there to spy on him. Long, floor to ceiling drapes cover the front wall and Ed wonders if Mustang ever bothers to open them. On the other side of the doorway is a huge grandfather clock and in the corner behind it a more worn chair than the others with a small side table. He takes it all in then shakes his head. It’s so not what he expected. It almost reminds him of the cozy feel of his father’s old study—but he’s not going there.

Ed opens the large tome in his lap and huffs in frustration. Damn Mustang for making him think about _him_. He scowls down at the book and grimaces because it’s not helping either. The last time he saw this book was in that same room before he and Al tried to—. He slams the book closed then grabs another one to start flipping through, but before long he’s reaching for the anthology again. Al really wanted to see this book and considering both copies he knew existed were burned he doesn’t need to waste this opportunity. For all he knows Mustang won’t let him back in here again, though if he tries to lock him out Ed might have to see just how secure this room really is.

Before long he finds the section Al wanted to see and he moves the book to the small table and starts copying all the theories and notations without missing a word. His hand will be a claw by the time he’s done, but it doesn’t matter if it brings Al a little bit of peace. He knows that Al trusts in him and his memories again, at least he thinks he does, but these notes should make it even easier to accept. He focuses on his task and doesn’t stop until every last detail he remembered is copied down in his usual scrawl. His left hand and back are killing him by the time he’s done and he’s envying Roy his desk, but he got what he needed. Now he can flip through the rest of the book to see if there’s anything else of interest in it.

He’d only remembered the sections on alchemy he actually used before and the rest of the book comes as a pleasant surprise. Before he knows it he’s jotting down more notes for himself on some basic constructs he can put to use immediately. There’s even one derivative that should be able to help him strengthen Al’s armor, which is always a good thing. After a while he gets lost in reading the author’s history and some anecdotal discussions on his theories when a certain observation makes him smile.

_In all the time I spent traveling and studying alchemy, it never ceased to amaze me how many people view this science as some sort of black art. Even with all the advancements science has put forth, many still continue to see alchemy as something mythical and view those who practice it as magicians or, in a most unfortunate case, as demons. Even with all my explanations and demonstrations, some still refuse to comprehend…._

Ed snorts softly at the sentiment. How many times has he found himself in the same situation, though under slightly different circumstances? Much of the distrust and even hatred he’s encountered has been coupled with ill feelings toward the military as well as his alchemy. Unfortunately with some people there is no explaining, like that girl in Lior. Even with facts right in front of her face she still didn’t want to believe. It’s ludicrous. Ed turns his attention back to the book and continues reading.

 _I’ve even run across people whose beliefs were founded on “miracles” or “happenings” which were obviously alchemically related. It seems likely that many mythical monsters and “boogeymen” may in fact be merely misunderstood alchemic practices performed by—_

Hold on a minute.

Ed stares at the text a moment longer than shoves a scrap of paper in the book to mark his place. He stares off toward the shelves as his mind spins. Monsters. The homunculi are monsters. There’s no doubt about that. But how long have they been around? Ed glances down at the anthology in his hands that’s a little over fifty years old. People were talking about monsters back then, but what if those monsters weren’t just traveling alchemists? What if those monsters were….

Ed jumps off the couch and knocks a few papers on the floor as he scrambles over to the bookcase to the left of the fireplace. It was filled with histories and legends. What if some of those legends are about homunculi? People wouldn’t know they were homunculi but the damn military couldn’t squash legends. Those travel by word of mouth. What if some of them have to do with _real_ monsters? Ed swears he feels eyes on him as he starts yanking books from the shelf but he ignores them. He doesn’t have time for Mustang now. He’s onto something. He snatches another old, battered book from the shelf when his eyes drift over to the cabinet in the corner and this time he doesn’t look away.

He must have better resources in there. Why else would it be locked up? He might actually have something directly related to the homunculi or who knows what else. He hid all these books from him for so long, who’s to say what else he’d be hiding now? Ed takes a step closer to the “forbidden” cabinet and scowls at the stupid, swirly carvings that mock him with their hidden secrets. If only he could get a little peek. He reaches out to trace one of the stupid designs with a finger and—

A sudden, sharp electric shock runs up his arm so strong it rattles his teeth. Ed yanks his flesh hand back, his eyes widening in shock then squinting in pain. “OW! Mustang, what the FUCK? Are you trying to fucking kill me?” He whips his head around to find dark eyes locked on him disapprovingly from his position at the desk. Ed fists his right hand and wonders if automail to the face would be as painful as that damn shock was.

“I specifically told you not to touch that cabinet, Fullmetal.”

That’s it? That’s all he has to say after fucking trying to kill him? Ok…maybe not kill him, but that hurt! “You could have told me the damn thing would attack me!”

“I’d advise you not to touch it again because once activated the charge only grows stronger.”

Ed’s teeth clench at the even tone to Mustang’s voice and he jerks his head around to see the cabinet has a faint alchemic glow. It’s almost as if arrays are glowing from the inside. Ed squints at the decorative carving again and now he can’t believe he didn’t see it. Some of the lines are most definitely alchemy related…but they aren’t complete. That’s why he missed it. How could it possibly be activated with incomplete arrays? Wait a minute, the glow is coming from the _inside_ ….

A bolt of comprehension jolts through him with almost the same force as the alchemic shock. His eyes widen and in an instant he’s storming across the room to look at the back of the door. He saw nothing but faint indentations on the front of the door above the lock but on the back…. “Bastard.” Ed’s careful not to touch the three tiny arrays carved in the wood just in case, and he still doesn’t completely understand how they work, but there’s no question it’s the same principal. Somehow Mustang activated these arrays from the other side of the door when he unlocked it! He jerks his head back to look at Mustang and snarls. “What the hell is this, Mustang? What’s going on here and what kind of alchemy is this?! What else are you hiding!”

Mustang doesn’t answer. He just levels a hard look at him that has Ed clenching both his fists. He shifts on his feet and considers the consequences of shaking answers out of a superior officer when Mustang finally speaks in the same flat toned voice as before. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Fullmetal.”

Ed blinks at him, his words barely processing. Is he serious? Does he really think he’d just walk out of here with no answers? There’s no way that’s happening! Mustang closes the book on his desk and as he moves to stand a sick feeling spreads through Ed’s stomach. He _can_ kick him out. He glances over at his papers strewn everywhere and he knows with a snap of the bastard’s fingers those could be gone as well. Ed backs away from the door, taking a defensive stance in front of his hours of labor and he snaps.

“You can’t do that! Not now.” The stone look on Mustang’s face is unwavering as he comes closer and desperation floods through Ed. “You brought me here, Mustang. _You._ You can’t shut me out now. What about working together? What about….” He struggles to find the right words because it’s obvious he’s about to be thrown out on his ass and there’s no question he won’t be invited back. Then it hits him. “What about ‘mutual understanding?’ Isn’t that what you said? How can we have an understanding when you won’t even trust me? You said my biggest fault was doing everything on my own. Didn’t you say we were in this _together?_ How can we be in this together if you’re shutting me out?!”

He’s rambling. He knows it, but what other choice is there? He can’t _make_ Mustang do anything. Sure he could tell people about this place, but what good would that do? He’d probably just deny it and there’s no question who people would believe. Not to mention he wouldn’t want to put the bastard at more risk then he already is for helping them. Damn him and all his secrets! Mustang’s stopped in front of the open door and Ed stands his ground when he doesn’t make any direct move to throw him out. He looks like he’s weighing out what Ed said and now Ed holds his breath as he waits for the verdict.

“I suppose you have a point about working together.” Ed lets out a breath but then catches it again when Mustang’s hard stare pins him down again. “So, you’ve been researching for hours. What have you found?”

Ed’s mouth goes dry when he realizes exactly what he’s doing. He’s testing _him_ and Ed has no doubt his future involvement here rides entirely on his answer. Stupid bastard. He didn’t tell him there was a deadline or that he’d have to “report” before he left. He has to know much of what he was copying down was personal, though how he’d know that Ed has no clue. But the arrogant Colonel Shit is in for a surprise because he was onto something! At least, he thinks he was. Ed deliberately stands up straighter and locks his eyes directly with Mustang’s. He won’t back down.

“Well, considering the homunculi have probably been around a long time—”

“You have no basis for that assumption.” Mustang’s voice is hard and cold in a way he’s only ever seen once before. He was this way when he pretended to torch Maria Ross. Damn him for being so difficult!

“I damn well do.” Mustang opens his mouth to answer again but Ed cuts him off before he can. “Have you ever heard of the ‘Beasts of Dublith?’” Mustang’s mouth snaps shut and Ed smirks slightly when confusion quickly followed by annoyance plays across his face.

“I can’t say that I have, but surely this isn’t your idea of—”

“The Beasts of Dublith are monsters who live below ground and are rumored to come out at night and eat children who are disobedient.” Ed continues quickly without giving Mustang a chance to argue. This is his only shot and, for once, he’s not going to let him derail him. “I first heard the story when I was studying there with Teacher and Al. I always assumed it was just something parents said to keep kids in line. But then we found out about Greed and the chimeras who moved underground and kept to the shadows. Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Mustang looks less than convinced and Ed pushes on. “Sig once told me he heard that story when he was a kid, so it was probably an old tale then. Old and based in fact.”

Mustang crosses his arms and his face takes on a less stony countenance. His eyes, however, still stare piercingly through Ed and he has to force himself to maintain his ground. “Go on.”

Ed takes a breath at the encouragement. At least he’s listening. “We could probably dig deeper into that fairy tale to determine its origin, but it’s hardly worth it considering Greed’s dead now.” Mustang nods and Ed’s starting to get the feeling he’s winning him over. He probably knows where he’s going with this already, but of course he’s going to make him spell it all out. Bastard. “I have no doubt there are other legends like this and if we could weed through them….”

“We might just be able to start getting a bigger picture about these ‘monsters.’”

Ed nods as Mustang uncrosses his arms. He gets it. Now maybe he’ll let him stay.

“Good work, Fullmetal.”

Ed relaxes until Mustang takes a step toward him and he tenses, ready to resist. Is he really going to throw him out now? Was it all a joke? But then Mustang passes by him and he realizes he’s heading to one of the bookcases on the back wall. What’s that about? Ed turns around as Mustang scans the shelves, and wouldn’t you know it, pulls down a book well out of Ed’s reach. He stares at the cover then comes back over to Ed and holds it out.

“You might want to take a closer look at this book the next time you’re here.” Ed takes the book and nods quickly at the promise of another opportunity. “As for tonight, it is getting late and I, for one, have somewhere to be in the morning.” Ed ignores the thinly veiled insult and looks down at the book. Weather patterns? Really? “The day after tomorrow is my day off so if you want to come by tomorrow evening, you can stay as long as you like.”

Ed nods distractedly as he opens the book and starts scanning through it. He moves back toward his messy pile of research scattered over the couch, table, and the floor and starts picking up the pages one by one as he sets the book down and flips through it with his other hand. Why would Mustang give him this? It has to be a code, but a code of what? Is it because Mustang’s so useless in the rain? That could explain why he’d have picked up a book like this. There has to be more though. Ed skims through chapter titles and sees one on the focus and generation of lightning strikes. That shock he got felt like a bolt of lightning. Could this be….

“This is how you made the locks, isn’t it?” He looks up to find Mustang giving him a look that’s somewhere between amusement and annoyance. How can he be both at once? He bristles under the idea that Mustang may be laughing at him and starts grabbing up his loose notes more aggressively.

“Yes, Edward. But as I said, another time?”

Ed looks up again when he hears what sounded like a stifled yawn. He takes a closer look at Mustang and suddenly notices what he thought was annoyance might just be exhaustion. What time is it anyway? He leans forward to look around him at the grandfather clock and his mouth drops open. It’s after midnight! He snatches up the last of his papers and hastily shoves them inside his coat as he stands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.” He did say come back tomorrow, right? “I didn’t mean to keep you up.” He glances back at the book Mustang showed him, still sitting on the table, and finally realizes why he brought it to him. It wasn’t about the locks. It was about letting him in. He may not have spelled it out, but he doesn’t have to. Ed smiles to himself then nods as he heads for the door. “So, tomorrow then?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just calls out as he reaches the door. “I’ll bring food. Later, Colonel.”

He might as well work on evening things up between them. With Mustang sharing so much right now, the scales are definitely tipping. The least he can do is bring dinner. He grins as he steps off the porch and heads down the street. What a weird night. Al’s never going to believe this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
> As this was written for , we had the pleasure of working with the wonderful who created the above artwork illustrating a moment in this chapter. A big Thank You from both of us for the gorgeous work!! For the full size image please click [here](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/aquerna/16174961/13817/13817_original.jpg%20%20)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

“Brother! Where have you been? Do you know how late it is? Did something happen? What’s going on?” Al moves away from the window with a speed that belies his huge form and hurries over to Ed. He reaches out with both gloved hands to touch him but Ed bats him away.

“I’m fine, Al. Can’t you see that. Stop mother henning me, will ya?” Ed bats at his hands again then pulls off his coat as he moves around him. He walks over to one of the two couches facing each other and slings his coat over the back of it. He drops down onto the couch and puts his feet up on the low coffee table in front of him. “I told you I was going to a private library. You know how that goes. I got wrapped up in research.”

Ed looks back when Al doesn’t come to join him immediately and even in a suit of armor he can tell he’s disappointed. He wasn’t happy about being left behind in the first place. Now he’ll be even more disappointed when he finds out Ed’s not supposed to tell him everything, though Mustang has to know that’s not going to happen, right? It’s one thing for him to want to keep his library private and not have Al clanking around inside, but there’s no way he can ask him not to talk to his brother!

“It’s not just that.” Al’s armor creaks as he shifts on his feet and Ed turns completely around on the couch to see what’s got him on edge. “Brother, someone came by while you were gone with a message.” His armor rattles again and Ed gets a feeling of foreboding at the way he stalls. “They came to tell you, Ed, Scar’s alive and back in town. You could’ve been hurt out walking alone.”

“Ahhhhh, you heard about that, did you?” Ed rubs the back of his neck and deliberately looks away. Sergeant Brosh found him shortly after he left Mustang’s and warned him. He doesn’t know for sure how he found him, but he wouldn’t be too surprised if a certain Colonel was responsible. “Yeeeeeah, I heard that too. But I was careful. You don’t need to worry so much, Al.”

“Not worry?!” Footsteps, louder than usual, pound from the doorway to the couch across from him. Ed attempts to keep his eyes averted, but it’s a little hard to miss Al when he doesn’t want to be missed. “Did you forget what he did to us last time? You were ready to give up!”

Ed slouches down on the couch and crosses his arms defiantly. That was a completely different situation. Besides, it’s not like he can’t take care of himself. Bad enough adults look at him like he’s still a child. He doesn’t need Al doing the same thing. “That was different,” he mutters under his breath. “You were in danger.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for you to sacrifice yourself if I’m there to watch you die, but not if you’re alone?!” Al’s voice echoes louder and Ed winces at the implication. “How do I know you wouldn’t try something stupid like that again?”

“I wouldn’t! I was trying to protect you.” Ed fists his hands and slams them against his knees as he glares at Al. “It’s not like I just wanted to die.”

“It sure didn’t look that way! If you EVER do something like that again I’ll NEVER forgi—”

“Al, would you STOP!” Ed jumps to his feet, but still he’s left looking up into the lights of Al’s eyes. Times like this he _really_ hates Al’s height advantage. “I didn’t even see Scar. Besides, I promised you we’re in this together, remember?”

“Yeah, and I also know just how far you’d go if you thought you had a chance to make things ‘right.’” Al crosses his arms and doesn’t budge an inch, which after another long moment has Ed dropping back down on the couch and conceding the point. If he could restore Al immediately he would regardless of the cost. But that’s not the point right now. 

“Fine. Maybe so. But that’s not happening right now.” Ed motions to the couch across from him when Al still doesn’t move and gives him a pleading look. “Would you just sit down? I brought something to show you.” That seems to get his attention and after another hard look Al finally sits down across from him, his forearms resting across his thighs.

“Is it from the _secret_ library?” There’s no missing the pointed nature of his remark but Ed ignores it and nods as he pulls out his folded and crumpled notes from earlier.

“Yeah, it is.” Ed unfolds some of the pages and spreads them out on the table between them. He stares down at the barely legible scrawl written with his left hand. It’s a good thing Al’s used to reading it because he’s in no mood to translate. “So, do you remember Gruene’s Anthology?”

“What? Of course I do!” Al sits up straight and leans forward to snatch several of the pages. “Brother, are you _serious?_ You said that was the book that explained how to bind my soul to armor! I thought all the copies were lost!” He grabs for more pages and scans them in rapid succession before turning his gaze back to Ed. “Where did you get this?!”

Ed shifts uncomfortably and looks away as he rubs at a spot on the cushion next to him. “I told you. I’m not supposed to say.” Maybe Al will drop it then he won’t have to worry about breaking Mustang’s stupid confidence. Though, if it comes down to it, there’s no question who will win out in the end. He busies himself with pulling off his gloves and tossing them onto his coat beside him. “Does it really matter?”

Al doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. The clanking of his armor with every exaggerated movement is more than enough to show his displeasure. Ed sighs and throws his head back against the couch and stares at the ceiling. Damn Mustang for putting him in this position. He didn’t ask for this. Why does that man have to make things so damn difficult? Ed remembers some of those books referencing areas of the country Mustang sent him to investigate and it infuriates him even more because he saw firsthand how much the bastard Colonel has been trying to help him. Asshole. He wasn’t supposed to be involved.

“Umm, Brother….” Ed lifts his head to see Al’s spread the notes all over the table. He has several pages in his hands and Ed feels like an ass before he even speaks. “Thank you for copying all this down but….”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Ed leans forward and fishes out several crumpled pages from the bottom of the pile. “This is the part you’re looking for, at least, the part I understand.” He hands over the pages before slouching back against the couch again. “This section’s written like a carpenter’s handbook.” He stretches his arms over his head then rubs the back of his neck. “He wrote it under the guise of alchemy for the home but if you read between the lines when he talks about constructing a perfect home you’ll see he’s not just talking about a happy household.”

Al smooths the pages Ed handed him on the table and arranges them in neat little piles. He’s always been much more organized than Ed ever was. His large hands follow the figures before he looks up at Ed again. “Ed, this is pretty heavy code. Did you _really_ understand all this when we were kids?”

Ed leans forward to look at the pages again and rests his hands on his knees. Did he never tell Al about this? Probably not. They never have talked much about that time or what they saw. “Don’t give me too much credit, Al. When I first skimmed through the book I didn’t understand the deeper meanings either.” He pulls a page closer and turns it around to look over what he copied down earlier. “I still haven’t figured it all out even now.” And he should. There’s a good chance there’s something else here on the soul binding that might help them stabilize Al’s bond to the armor. If not that, maybe there’s something that can give them an idea about how much time they have.

“But….”

Ed looks up to see Al staring at him, waiting for him to continue. He pushes the papers towards him and sucks in a breath. This really doesn’t get easier to talk about. He presses his lips together in a hard line as he stares down at his mismatched hands. “It was when I was in the Gate. So much flashed before my eyes but then I saw this book and, for the first time, I understood it.” He shrugs and fists his hands, ignoring how loud the creak and whirls of his automail is in the quiet room. “It was clear as day, the part I needed anyway. I’d still need to take some time with it to understand the rest.”

“Huh,” Al’s voice echoes softly and he straightens the piles of papers on the table between them. His large hands run along the edges of the pages and Ed watches every movement. It’s much better than thinking right now. “Maybe, that’s the key.”

“Wha?” Ed pulls his eyes away from the growing pile of pages and stares at him. Al doesn’t answer right away and Ed drags the sleeve of his coat into his lap and folds and unfolds the cuff. “What was the key, Al?”

Al raises his head and shifts in the way he does when he’s unsure of himself, the soft shushing of his leather joints underscoring his mood. “Maybe that’s _why_ you could understand it. I mean, I’d never looked at the book before. Maybe the Truth…only shows you the truth of things you’ve seen. Maybe that’s why you have to be such a strong alchemist to try….”

“Ahhh,” he breathes out as Al’s words trail off. He never thought along those lines before, but it’s possible. He still swears _all_ the answers were on the other side of that door, but maybe he could only see the ones he could use. Maybe that’s why no one’s ever mastered human transmutation. Could this be part of the reason the homunculi are calling them sacrifices? Is it because of their knowledge base? Can only strong alchemists make it back through the Gate? He tilts his head back in thought. “Hmmmm, I should probably get Mustang’s take on—”

Crap.

“Mustang? Why would you tell the Colonel about this?” Al’s hands slam flat on the table and he leans toward Ed ominously. “Is that where you were tonight, Brother? Did the Colonel give you this book? We promised we weren’t going to get anyone else involved! After General Hughes—”

“It’s not like that, Al. You don’t understand.” Ed looks to the side and picks at the crease of his coat’s hood. “He’s part of this whether we want him to be or not.”

“No he’s NOT! We promised, Ed. No one else is to be in danger!” Al looms over him suddenly and Ed knows he’s doing it on purpose. “I don’t even want my body back if—”

“You’re not listening, Alphonse!” Ed tosses the coat aside and clutches his knees as he tries to remember the way the bastard laid it all out. He considers telling Al about how long Mustang’s been “influencing” them, but he wouldn’t like the thought of being controlled any more than Ed does. “The homunculi are already calling him a sacrifice! He’s in this just as much as we are!”

“NO HE’S N—”

“Would you two SHUT UP?!” Ed jumps when the hotel room door slams open and he looks back to see Winry in her pajamas clutching a pillow and scowling at them both. “I have to catch an early train to Rush Valley tomorrow.” She locks her eyes on Ed and purses her lips. “Unlike you, I’d like to be _awake_ for the trip!”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ed jumps to his feet and tries to figure out if the insult was in any way directed at his height.

“You do sleep a lot, Brother.”

Ed whips his head around to glare at Al who suddenly looks less angry than moments before. “We went over this. I’m sleeping for two. _Remember?_ ”

“Or you’re just lazy and looking for an excuse no one can argue with. I still think it’s all just a reason to get out of drinking your milk.”

Ed spins around to confront his other attacker and stamps his foot. “That’s not true! And I could be right. Since when do you know so much about alchemy? Why don’t you just—” Pain shoots through his head as the wrench Winry was apparently hiding behind her pillow deflects off his head. “Ow! What was that for?” He holds his hand to his head and she better not have drawn blood. She doesn’t usually, but he can never be too sure. 

“It’s the only way I can get you to be quiet.” She looks between Ed and Al menacingly. “Now, keep in mind I have plenty more where that came from.” She locks her eyes on Ed and in that moment he sees the exhaustion and concern in her eyes.

Did Al tell her about Scar? He wouldn’t. But if she was here when Al got the news she might’ve overheard. Ed ignores the throbbing in his head and picks up the wrench. How many of these has she brained him with over the years? Was she always trying to hide her real feelings those times too? Knowing her he’ll probably never know. He crosses over to her and presses the metal tool into her hands.

“We’ll be quieter. I promise.” Winry takes the wrench and gives him a suspicious look. She knows him too well. She knows he’s up to something, but he doesn’t have the time to explain now. It’ll be better for all of them if she goes back to Rush Valley, especially if what he suspects about Scar killing her parents is true. She doesn’t need to deal with that now and if this stuff he’s been researching about the homunculi gets more complicated he doesn’t want her involved. “We’ll be okay, Winry.”

She stares at him for a long moment then he has to catch his breath when she launches at him and squeezes him so tight he can’t breathe. She holds him tight then he stumbles back a step when she pulls back and gives him a light shove. “You better be. If not….” She brandishes the wrench again and Ed puts his hands up in mock defense. He hates to see her scared like this, but at least she should be safe in Rush Valley if not in Resembool.

“Don’t worry, Winry.” Al clatters over to stand beside him, his voice sounding strong and reassuring despite the tinny quality to it. “I’ll make sure to look after him.”

Ed snorts at the comment as Winry gets on her toes to give Al a hug as well. “You be sure to look after yourself too.” She pulls back and gives Al a knowing look. “Don’t let me hear anything about you having to be carted around in a box again, okay?” Al laughs and nods as Winry takes a step back into the hall. “Good night you two.”

The door closes with a soft click and Ed can already feel Al’s gaze on him. They still have more to discuss tonight. He needs to get Al to realize that bastard Mustang might actually be able to help them. Then there’s the suspicions he had about Scar earlier tonight. He really should tell him. He turns away from the door, deliberately ignoring Al’s stare, and heads back to the couches. He hears Al following him as he drops down beside his red coat again.

“What was that about, Brother?” Ed looks across the low table as Al sits down and he can already tell the less serious tone he had with Winry is gone. He thought he’d want to argue some more about Mustang, but now he’s not so sure.

“What was what about?” There’s so much to say he’s not even sure where to start. As soon as he saw the report about Scar and his tattoo, things started coming together. He can’t be sure, but how many murderous Ishvalans with full tattooed right arms can there be? Surely it’s not a coincidence. The old Ishvalan lady said his face was covered in bandages and Scar does have that scar on his forehead….

“With Winry.” Al breaks his train of thought and he looks over to see him resting his forearms on his thighs. He could almost be an empty suit of armor like that except for the glow of his eyes. The soft sound of metal against metal fills the silent room more than it should. “You were nice. You’re never that nice, especially when she throws something at your head.”

Ed smiles because he knows it’s true. In another situation, he’d probably argue over the implication that he’s not always nice, but now isn’t the time. He sighs and runs his hand over his face as he leans back on the couch and looks up at the ceiling. “When I saw the report on Scar tonight, it got me thinking.” He takes another breath then blows it out forcefully. “I think he might be the one who killed Winry’s parents.”

“WHAT!” Ed sits up straight, his eyes widening at the loudness of Al’s voice and they both look toward the hotel room door. No sound is heard other than Ed’s breathing and the soft little metal creaks Al makes when he’s consciously trying to be still. Al looks back at him when she doesn’t come running and speaks barely above a whisper. “What? Are you serious? How do you know that?”

“Remember those Ishvalans I ran into in Xerxes?” Al nods and Ed’s shoulders sag as he looks down at his hands. “Well, when they told me about the Ishvalan who killed the Rockbells, they said he had a tattoo covering his right arm. Between that and the scar on his face, I think it’s definitely possible.”

“Oh.” Al looks down at the floor and Ed knows exactly how he feels. It almost feels like they should be doing something about it, but even if he’s right, what can they do? Al slowly opens and closes his hands, the only sound in the room, then says softly, “Poor Winry.”

“Yeah. I know.” Silence stretches between them and nothing else needs to be said. They can’t tell her, not now. It wouldn’t help anything and would only worry her more. Ed picks at the edge of the couch and he vows to himself that if he ever has the opportunity to confront him, or better yet make him pay for what he did…. But that won’t get them anywhere right now. He takes a breath and turns to Al again. “About the Colonel….”

“How could you make that decision without me, Brother? After we promised….” It’s his tone of voice that says so much more than his words and Ed hears it clear as day. He feels left out and if he didn’t know better he’d swear that armor could pout ‘cause this one very nearly does.

“It wasn’t like that, Al.” Ed grunts with irritation and reaches back to untie his hair. He threads his fingers through it, frustrated with the whole situation. Stupid, meddling, bastard Colonel. “You said yourself they called him a sacrifice.” He shakes his head and can’t believe he’s repeating Mustang’s words from earlier. “The homunculi are obviously working for someone high up in the military, if not the Fuhrer himself. With his plans, Mustang was going to run into them sooner or later. Not to mention, when you said they called him a sacrifice, I had to know if he’d ever tried—”

“Has he?” Al sits up straighter on the couch, his armor scraping together as he clenches his hands on his thighs. “The Colonel is the one who found us. Did he ever…?”

“No.” Al tilts his head, obviously unconvinced and Ed shrugs. “I asked him point blank. He didn’t even know about the Gate or the Truth guy.” He lets out a long sigh and slouches down on the couch. He scowls as he stares at a point over Al’s head. “That means he meets some other qualification. Maybe they just _think_ he can open the Gate.” Ed rubs the back of his neck in annoyance. “If only we could find one of those homunculi bastards and beat the crap out of them until they talk!” Ed tugs at his hair then slams his fist into his automail hand and grits his teeth. “If only I’d made a deal with Greed! Then we would know—”

“Then the Fuhrer would’ve killed us.” Ed scowls at the matter of fact tone to Al’s voice. “You saw how he was. Greed might have told us something but then the Fuhrer would’ve used it as a reason to kill us.”

“Would he?” Ed sits up straighter and tries to examine things from all perspectives. “Would he have killed us _both?_ ” He reaches back to retie his hair and his mind spins. “They could have killed me in the Fifth Laboratory, but they didn’t. They needed me. Would the Fuhrer really have taken the chance to kill us both?”

“What are you saying, Brother? One, both, does it matter?” Al’s armor clanks as he crosses his arms and fixes his gaze on him. “Do you think that’s why Lust tried to kill me? Because I was alone?”

“I think it’s possible.” A slow grin spreads across Ed’s face. “Which could mean if we were _both_ in danger, we might be able to draw them out…to protect us.”

“And just how do you plan on—”

“Scar.” Ed slaps his hands on his thighs and leans forward in excitement. This could work. “We could draw him out by doing alchemy then wait for the homunculi to show up.” He nods to himself because this way no one else would have to get hurt other than them and if Mustang wants to help….

“Are you _crazy?_ ” Al slams his hands on his thighs much like Ed just did and leans toward him. “You know what happened the last time with Scar. But what if it works? What then? The homunculi pretty much can’t die. What do you plan to—”

“We’re in!”

Ed’s thankful for the distraction from Al’s glowering figure, until he sees the source. Ling and that over protective girl are sitting on the window sill. He’s grinning like the fool he is and she’s wearing her mask and radiating her usual disdain and disapproval. Great. Just what they needed. Ed scowls deeply and crosses his arms. “What are you talking about? How long were you out there?”

“Long enough to hear all about your magnificent plan.” Ling hops lightly off the window sill and walks over to the couches as if he actually belongs here. He lounges beside Al while the girl, Lan Fan, sits beside Ed after giving him a sideward glance. His eyes narrow. What the fuck was that for? If they’re that far beneath them then maybe her stupid prince should go find his answers elsewhere. “We’ve dealt with these creatures before and they sound exactly like what we’re looking for. We’ll be happy to help.”

“You’ve—” Ed leans his foot hard against the bottom of a table leg in annoyance. He didn’t ask for their help. This was their plan. Besides, no one else was supposed to be involved, except maybe the bastard. Granted, these two fools will probably get in the way regardless now that they know the plan. They’re gonna need to start remembering to seal the windows. He’d like to throw them out anyway, but then he actually processes what the grinning idiot said. “Wait, you said you’ve dealt with them before? How? Which ones?”

“Yes. Lan Fan and I ran into two of those creatures here in Central.” Ling crosses his arms and legs and the infuriatingly smug look on his face has Ed ready to strangle him, but somehow he holds himself in check. At least he’s not running up an enormous food tab and he won’t be giving him a chance after this either. “I believe their names were Envy and Gluttony. Very strange creatures especially the one that could change shape.”

“What?” Al turns slightly to face Ling while Ed wonders if “Envy” might be one of the ones he saw in the Fifth Lab. “Did you say one of them could change shape?”

“That’s what the young lord said.” Lan Fan’s voice drips condescension and it grates against Ed’s nerves. Ed doesn’t give a fuck if Ling’s royalty. It doesn’t matter here and neither of them can read minds. The way they speak is odd. It’s not their fault they need to make sure what they think he means is what Ling really means. “We were able to track them by the feel of their presence. I’m certain we would be of value to your operation.”

Ed has no idea what she’s going on about with presence and all that. But whatever, if he can use them to help further his own ends then he’s all for it. At least this way, they won’t be trailing after him like some demented puppies and getting in the way of everything. He’ll also be less prone to cause large scale destruction that way, something he’d really like to avoid while he’s in Central.

“As long as we get some time with the homunculus of course,” Ling adds with a much too cheery smile. There’s a slight movement beside him like Lan Fan moved her head but no words follow. If they want to get involved, then fine. Besides, they seemed to have held their own against the homunculi from the sounds of it. He doesn’t remember hearing any reports of major damage in the city from their encounter.

“Yeah, sure, as long as you don’t run off with it,” Ed counters and turns the plan over in his head. It’s not bad. He and Al can draw them out and Ling and Lan Fan can chase them down. It’ll work. Now he just has to get Mustang to go along with it. “I like it,” Ed says then shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “But…I need to talk to Mustang tomorrow about it. He’s…working with us right now and….”

“Colonel Mustang?” Ling tilts his head curiously then nods. “I’ve not met him personally but I have worked with his people before. That’s acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” Ling’s superior tone is taking things one step too far. Who does he think he is? Ed jumps to his feet angrily and hardly notices Lan Fan doing the same beside him. “No one asked your opinion! Who do you think you are anyway?!”

Ling places a hand against his chest and sits up straighter. “Why I’m the twelfth son of the Emperor of X—”

“Brother.” Ed’s about ready to jump across the table at the grinning fool until Al moves to his feet and puts a hand on his arm. Al tugs on his sleeve and only then does he notice Lan Fan has her blade half drawn, not that he cares. Stupid idiot can’t even fight his own fights. He has to have servants to keep his hands clean. Ed rolls his eyes and he’s about to tell Lan Fan just where she and her “lord” can shove their lineages. “Brother, maybe we should consider asking Winry to stay….”

At first Ed’s confused as to why Al’s changing the subject, but then he remembers the way Scar shattered his automail like it was nothing. That’s a bit more important of a concern than strangling an idiot from Xing and his arrogant babysitter. Ed plops back down on the couch and brushes his bangs out of his face. Lan Fan settles back down a few moments later accompanied by the slight rasp of her sword sliding back into place. “There’s no point in waking her now. I’ll talk to Mustang first thing in the morning. Once I get him on board, I’ll head over to the train station to tell her…something.”

He’s not really looking forward to that conversation. But now he needs to get these idiots out of their room so he can get a few hours of sleep. Maybe they can get Mustang to run interference for them while they fight Scar. Either way it’s good to know that soon they’ll finally have some damn answers!


	3. Chapter 3

“That’s absolutely out of the question, Fullmetal.”

Ed stares blankly then blinks because he can’t…but he just did. Stupid bastard. Wasn’t he listening? He jumps out of the kitchen chair and slams his hands on Mustang’s kitchen table. “You can’t just do that! This is our plan. I was just coming over here to—”

“Keep me in the loop?” Mustang continues to sit at the end of the table, sipping coffee casually with one leg crossed over the other at the knee. He looks bored and patronizing and this is exactly why Ed knew they couldn’t work together. “I appreciate that, Edward. Particularly in this case considering the ‘plan’ is not in any way feasible.”

“Wha—,” Ed stammers then grits his teeth and stamps his foot. “It is too! Al and I will be the bait and Ling and Lan Fan will track the homunculi. They can do that. It’ll work!”

“Can they now?” Mustang takes another slow sip of his coffee and Ed has the urge to pour it over his damn head. “Ling is proving to be a very useful ally indeed. Tell me, did he tell you a good way to contact him?”

“Wha—You—Are you even _listening_ to me?” Ed snarls and balls his hands into fists. He must’ve gone temporarily insane yesterday to even think the bastard would be helpful. Al was right. They don’t need him. They’ve made it this far without his meddling, smug, domineering ass. Sure he got one over on him with the Lieutenant Ross thing, but that just had to be luck or something. This jackass is _not_ as smart as he thinks he is!

“I’d be more than happy to listen to you, Edward, if you’d stop acting like a hot-headed kid.”

“I’M NOT A HOT-HEADED KID!” Ed stomps his foot again and this time can’t control himself. He swipes across the table with his automail arm and sends the half full cup of coffee and saucer smashing into the wall. The sound of breaking porcelain shatters the angry haze he’s in and he stares in disbelief at the broken pieces.

“I do believe my neighbors might disagree.” Mustang gets up and crosses the kitchen and Ed takes the opportunity to move around the table.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” he grumbles to himself as he kneels down to gather up all the tiny pieces into a pile. Leave it to Mustang to have dishes that completely shatter. Mustang comes back with a kitchen towel and Ed snatches it away to wipe down the wall. Then he claps his hands together and reforms the cup and saucer almost as if they’d never been broken. He wasn’t able to find every single shard, so the cup might be marginally thinner, but it’s good enough. He stands and puts the repaired porcelain on the table. Mustang immediately picks it up to examine it and Ed snorts. “I know how to fix a damn cup.”

Mustang gives him a knowing look and nods infuriatingly. “I have no doubt you do.”

Ed starts to grind his teeth again but instead takes a deep breath. He doesn’t usually let his temper get that out of hand and he won’t be showing that particular weakness in front of Mustang again today. “If you’d just listened to me and been reasonable I wouldn’t have had to—”

“Smash my china against the wall?” The pointed tone makes him want to punch Mustang in the face, with automail and several kicks for good measure.

“Stop doing that!” Ed raises his voice again but how can he help it when Mustang keeps finishing his sentences like that? Could the bastard be any more of a shithead? He’s never been able to turn a phrase and make words do exactly what he wants like Mustang can and it drives him crazy. He deals better in actions. He’d leave right now if he didn’t know the asshole would probably try and do something to stop them and they don’t need him in the way.

“Then stop acting irrational and sit down so we can have a proper discussion.” Mustang sits at the end of the table again and Ed bites his tongue to keep from snapping back. At least he didn’t call him a damn kid this time.

Ed pulls out the chair nearest him and drops down into it. He crosses his arms and scowls as the bastard reaches out to trace the rim of the cup with his finger. Knowing him, he’s probably looking for imperfections. He should’ve let him fix it himself, but he’d be damned if he was going to be accused of not cleaning up his own messes. He huffs when Mustang doesn’t say anything and arches an eyebrow at him. “Well? Did you want to tell me _why_ you’re shooting down our plan?”

“I’d be more than happy to.” Ed glares at the nonchalant tone to Mustang’s voice but the bastard acts like he doesn’t even notice. “First of all, it’s a ridiculous, unnecessary risk.”

“It’s no different than what you did with Barry!” Ed blurts out. He rocks his chair back against the wall and pins Mustang with his stare. He took just as big of a risk _and_ he took Al with him!

“Actually, that’s completely inaccurate.” Mustang traces his finger down the side of the cup to the saucer and Ed inwardly wishes for the chip he knows he didn’t leave in the porcelain to cut his finger. “That was a meticulously planned strike that advanced further than expected due to unforeseen circumstances.”

“You mean Barry running after his rotting body.” Why can’t the bastard just say what he means? Does everything have to be laid out just so? Ed glances around the spotlessly organized kitchen and figures he has his answer.

Mustang lets out a long sigh before answering. “Yes. That was an unexpected opportunity.” He pushes the cup and saucer forward a bit on the table then folds his hands on the edge. “But my point is we waited for our chance. We didn’t force it. What you’re proposing is reckless and idiotic—”

“It is not! And you see just how well your way worked out.” The pained look on Mustang’s face at his words tempers Ed’s anger a bit. He really should head over to the hospital after this and see how Lieutenant Havoc is doing. Ed uncrosses his arms and lets out an exasperated breath. “It can work, Mustang. The homunculi won’t let us be killed.”

“You have no basis for that hypothesis!”

“I do too!” Ed lets the chair drop to the floor and he leans forward until he’s almost in Mustang’s face, his hands spread out on the table. “They didn’t kill me at the Fifth Lab. They _need_ me!”

“By your logic, they shouldn’t have tried to kill me or Alphonse.” Mustang’s eyes narrow and he leans forward a bit more as well. However, unlike Ed, his voice stays completely even. “But they did. You have no guarantee they still want to keep you around. Trying something like this might just make them decide they’ve had enough of you.” Mustang pulls back slightly and his expression turns decidedly more smug. “You realize Dr. Marcoh has gone missing. Chances are they’ve already replaced you as a candidate.”

“Marcoh’s missing?” Ed frowns then leans back. Could he and Armstrong have led them to him? Does that mean they’re being followed? Ed chews on his lower lip and stares down at the table. No matter how hard they try it seems they keep pulling people into this and endangering them. Maybe they should’ve listened when he told them to leave him al—

“Stop blaming yourself, Edward.” He looks up in surprise to see an unexpectedly understanding look on Mustang’s face. But why? How did he even know what he was thinking?

“Why shouldn’t I? Chances are Armstrong and I led them right to him.” He looks down again and toys with the end of the glove on his right hand. “I didn’t mean to put him in danger. I just….”

“You weren’t the one to put him in danger.” Ed glances over at Mustang again and he doesn’t look like he’s pitying him. If anything he looks a little…angry? “If Marcoh was the one to figure out how to make stones from _people_ then he’s been involved for a long time. Not to mention he’s far from innocent.”

Mustang takes a deliberate breath and there’s no question he’s trying to repress his anger and it takes Ed off guard. With as put together as the Colonel usually is, sometimes it’s hard to remember he actually has feelings too. Ed nods slowly then curls his fingers against the table until his hands make loose fists. “But he was trying to atone for it. He was helping people in that village.”

“There are some things that can’t be atoned for.”

The harshness of Mustang’s words cause him to immediately look over at him again. Ed takes a breath, ready to tell him how unfair he’s being, but stops when he sees more than hardness in Mustang’s eyes. There’s something else, something haunted, just underneath the obvious anger. He can see it in the tension of his body and in the way he doesn’t look directly at him, though he’s pretending to. He knows that look. He’s felt it many times before.

It’s guilt.

Ed suddenly realizes those words weren’t for Marcoh alone and he doesn’t have a clue what to do with that fact. Once again Mustang’s showing more of himself but this time Ed’s not convinced he’s doing it on purpose. He won’t call him out on it, not yet anyway. One day though, maybe when there aren’t homunculi and a murderous Ishvalan hanging over their heads he might just try.

“I understand your need for action, Edward, and I’m not completely discounting your plan.” Tension melts away in Mustang as he speaks again, his shoulders relaxing and his hands are no longer as tightly laced together. He’s obviously good at compartmentalizing, but if he really believes there’s no redemption…it makes sense. It’s fascinating and tragic and Ed has to force himself to stay focused on his words. “If it were only you and Alphonse involved in taking action like this it would make more sense. But it’s not, and we don’t need to make such an aggressive move, yet.”

It takes Ed a moment to process what he’s saying and when he does he sits up straighter. “Yet? So you do plan on going after them for more answers.” 

“Of course I do.” Mustang smiles and Ed doesn’t miss the glint of determination in his eyes. “But we need to know more so we aren’t taken unawares again.” He leans back in his chair and tilts his head forward slightly as he locks his eyes on Ed. “Alphonse told me you ran across one with an ‘Ultimate Shield.’ The one I torched had razor sharp spears for fingers and a fat one nearly ate two of my subordinates.”

“Yeah, Ling says the one I ran into at the Fifth Lab can change his shape.” Mustang’s eyes widen a bit at his words and Ed realizes maybe he should’ve passed that on sooner. They really haven’t been communicating, have they?

“There’s still a lot we need to know, how many there are, for example.” Ed finds himself nodding along despite the fact it irks him to agree with Mustang. “I do think you were on the right track with the research you were doing. There’s a good chance some of the answers we’re looking for are in plain sight and once we have them….”

“We can go after those bastards.”

“Exactly.” Mustang’s smile broadens and it gives Ed a strange feeling of accomplishment. If he didn’t know better he’d almost think Mustang was proud of him, but that’s too weird to even think about. Ed looks up when Mustang stands and pulls his blue military coat off the back of his chair. He slides it on and Ed pushes to his feet, ready to be tossed out. “As much as I’d like to continue this conversation, I need to go to work.”

Ed nods as Mustang buttons up his coat and turns for the doorway of the kitchen. “Yeah, ok. I’ll get out of your way then.” Ed makes it halfway down the hall when Mustang calls out to him.

“Fullmetal. If you’d like to stay and continue your research….”

Ed turns around, his mouth hanging open in surprise because surely he’s not offering….”

“I’d be happy to open the library for you.” Mustang’s standing by the closed and apparently locked door waiting for his response. Ed stares back at him, trying to figure out an ulterior motive besides keeping him distracted but he can’t think of one. He really should get back to the homunculi research and there was that book about locks and more notes he could copy for Al….

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try not to wreck the place while you’re gone.” Ed smirks at the scowl Mustang gives him, but considering he still turns to open the door he must believe he’s teasing. Ed watches as Mustang presses fingers to the three worn spots above the lock as he turns the key and once again he feels the slight tingle of alchemy. Crafty bastard. He really does need to figure out how that works.

“Alright then.” Mustang pushes the library door open then turns to grab his keys from the bowl on the hall table. He slips them in his pocket then comes toward Ed to retrieve his long black coat from the stand by the front door. He pauses to look at Ed again, his face a mask of seriousness. “Research all you like, but I ask you don’t leave until I get back.” Ed rolls his eyes but nods at the over paranoid Colonel. “We can talk more tonight, if you like.” Ed moves out of his way and watches with a fair amount of disbelief as he heads off to Central Command. He continues to stare at the closed door after he’s gone.

Mustang actually left him alone in his house.

Ed looks over to the open library door, the door he leaves locked even when he’s home, and shakes his head. Is this for real? He moves toward the small window to the left of the front door and pushes the tiny curtain covering it aside to look out. He fully expects to see Mustang out there testing him or something, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Huh. That’s unexpected.

Apparently the bastard actually trusts him.

Ed turns around and stares at the stairway in front of him. He considers snooping around upstairs but now that he knows Mustang trusts him…he can’t bring himself to do it. He shrugs at the weirdness of it all then heads toward the library. He can snoop around in there. Mustang had to know he would. Come to think of it, he still wants a look inside that hallway drawer that piqued his curiosity the last time he was here.

Ed takes a step toward the small hall table and before he can stop himself he opens the single drawer. He peeks inside and with the exception of the pair of ignition gloves with Mustang’s alchemy seal on them there’s nothing out of the ordinary. He finds a couple pens, some scraps of paper, a few paperclips, rubber bands and other odds and ends. He slides the drawer shut and shakes his head as he heads into the library.

He flips on the light and it looks the same as the night before, but this time he doesn’t have Mustang watching his every move. He’ll get back to his research shortly, but for now he’d like a better look around. He turns to the right, gives the tall grandfather clock a once over then wanders over to the worn chair in the corner. He plops down into it and surveys the room from his new vantage point. He picks up the book on the small side table and after a few minutes discovers that Drachman history is just as boring as it sounds.

Ed closes the book then hops out of the chair and runs his hand along the deep blue curtains covering the front windows. The fabric’s heavy and so thick it blocks out almost all traces of the sun. He pulls back one of the nearly floor to ceiling drapes and squints at the bright sunlight. The porch swing is on the other side of the tall windows and for a moment he stares out into the front yard. He considers pulling back the curtains to light up the room naturally, but considering he has no idea if Colonel Paranoid ever does he opts to let the curtain fall back into place. Maybe he can give him crap about that another time. If the bastard got a little sun every once in a while maybe he wouldn’t be so damn pale.

He turns to the left to continue his perusal of the room and ends up at the desk Mustang was working at last night. The broad, wooden surface is covered with neat little piles of reports and other assorted paperwork. He would’ve assumed he’d leave all this crap at work, but apparently the bastard is always working on something. Who knew? He’d always assumed Mustang was a lazy ass with the way he seems to dodge paperwork…but maybe that’s all just another act? Weird, weird Colonel.

There’s a phone on the corner of the desk and he reaches for it. He needs to let Al know what’s going on, though he doesn’t know how happy he’ll be. Ed dials the number for the hotel and asks the front desk to call Al to the phone. He’ll need to make sure and take some more notes from that anthology. That should make Al a little less annoyed. Ed drums his fingers on the desk as he waits for Al and looks around a bit more. He spots an old looking book on the other side of the desk and frowns as he reaches for it. Is that Xingese?

He flips open the book and tilts his head curiously when it seems to be a translation of some old Xing book. The print is tiny and hard to read but it seems to be about something called alkahestry, whatever that is. Mustang’s made notes in the margin and many of the pages are dog-eared. He’s torn between outrage and amusement at Mustang’s use of the book. Apparently he’s spent a lot of time with this. But wouldn’t that mean he’d treat the book better? Ed skims over it a few more minutes then flips the book closed when he hears fumbling on the other end of the line.

“Brother? Is that you? Is everything okay? You and the Colonel didn’t start without us did you?”

“You worry too much, you know that?” He shakes his head at the grumble in his ear. “No, we didn’t and actually…we’re not going to. Not yet anyway.”

“What? What do you mean, Ed? Ling’s still here and what about Winry? Did you catch her at the train?”

Ed traces his fingers along the binding of the old book and takes a breath. “Nah, I let her go on back to Rush Valley. It’s better that way, Al. She doesn’t need to get hurt and this way we should be more prepared….”

“But what about…. Prepared? What do you mean prepared? What should I tell Ling?”

“I dunno, feed him or something. I talked to Mustang and he—we—decided we should probably try to find out a little more about the homunculi before doing anything drastic. I know it’s not how we wanted to—“

“Thank goodness! Maybe you should think about listening to the Colonel more often, Brother.”

“What?!” Ed blinks at Al’s words then grips the phone tighter. “I told you _we_ decided! And I thought you wanted to try this. Last night you said—”

“Last night you weren’t giving me an option, Ed. If you decide to fight, you know I’ll be by your side, but if there’s another way that could keep people from being hurt….”

He runs his hand over his face and sighs. “Alright. I’ll keep looking. Mustang’s letting me use the library. I’ll be home later tonight.”

Ed’s shoulders sag as he hangs up the phone. Al was willing to walk into danger just because he said so. He doesn’t like that. He should’ve realized he wasn’t completely on board. Maybe if he weren’t so tired he might’ve seen it. But there didn’t seem to be another way. He just wants this over with so they can get back to figuring out how to get Al’s body back.

He shakes his head and puts the book back on the desk where he found it. He might as well finish looking around then get down to work. He glances over at the narrow bookcase between the desk and the fireplace. It seems to be filled mainly with books on elemental alchemy which is interesting but not something he’s concerned with right now. Maybe one day he’ll have a chance to read for fun, but somehow he doubts it.

He wanders over to the center of the room and past the two chairs facing the couch and turns toward the fireplace. He grins when he sees the pictures on the mantle and steps forward to get a closer look. He can’t imagine what someone like Mustang would bother to frame. His grin turns into a laugh when the first picture is one of a very young and very pissy looking Mustang as a boy. He’s standing with a large, well-dressed woman wearing more makeup than Ed’s ever seen. She’s holding a cigarette in one hand and her other is on Mustang’s shoulder. Is she family? Ed’s never seen her before but the look on Mustang’s face is priceless.

Ed moves over to the next picture and all amusement leaves him. It’s not that it isn’t a funny picture. He’s never seen such a cheesy grin on the Colonel’s face. It’s the fact that General Hughes is standing beside Mustang with an equally cheesy grin on his face. He doesn’t know when this was taken, but it was obviously a while ago, maybe even when they were in the military academy. They both look so young and carefree even with dog tags around their necks. The picture’s a little battered as well, but there’s no question in Ed’s mind this was taken before Ishval and before the Colonel turned into the serious bastard he is now.

He quickly moves to the next picture to get away from the familiar guilt that fills him on seeing Hughes’ smiling face. It’s a picture of Mustang in a bar or something with all of his subordinates. It looks like it might’ve been taken back East considering Hawkeye’s dog is only a puppy in her lap. There’s an air of camaraderie in the snapshot that seems to be more than just a bunch of coworkers. It’s the last thing Ed expected Mustang to have.

Ed shakes his head as he moves to the last picture which makes his eyes go wide. If he felt he was intruding when he looked at the picture with Hughes he feels it twice as much now. The photograph’s of a very awkward looking Mustang holding a very tiny baby girl. Ms. Gracia is hovering over his shoulder grinning broadly and Ed has no doubt who took the picture. He turns away quickly because it’s suddenly much too personal. It’s weird seeing the Colonel as a _real_ person. It puts all his assumptions about him in question and that’s not what he needs to concern himself with now. It’s time to get to work.

He makes his way back to the other side of the library and deliberately avoids the booby trapped cabinet. He’ll deal with that later. He gathers up a full armload of books then carries them all back over to the couch. He lays out the books on the long coffee table and looks them over: Gruene’s Anthology to take more notes for Al, the book about Mustang’s alchemic locks, and a large pile of books from around the country about mythical monsters and magic. He should be able to figure out which of those will be useful relatively quickly.

Ed stretches his arms over his head then reaches for the coded book on locks. He sprawls out on the couch and decides to start with a little reading. He’ll take notes later. He opens the book and reads theories about condensing static charges from the air to a specific point. The text refers to it as lightning but he has no doubt it’s the shock he felt last night. It’s fascinating and he wonders just how far it can be taken. Could it protect more than just a cabinet? A whole building or something even greater? There’s a lot that could be explored here especially when you think about using other aspects of the weather and elements.

He yawns as he gets into the array section, disguised as weather patterns, and he really should write some of this down. The words swim across the page and they’re not supposed to do that. He rubs his eyes and blinks to try and focus better but there’s this complicated word that looks like a whale chasing a smaller fish across the page. The whale word looks like something Mustang would say. Okay, maybe he’ll just rest his eyes for a moment. Ling kept him up almost all night with his incessant yammering and he barely got any sleep with having to get here so early. He wanted to make sure he caught Mustang before he left for Central Command. He’ll just close his eyes for a second. Then he’ll get back to work.

“Fullmetal.” _Isn’t that what they call you?_

Ed flinches when he hears that voice again and he wonders exactly when he got back to Youswell. Wasn’t he in Central? Wasn’t he researching? It’s so dark. When did it get so dark?

“Fullmetal.” _I like the sound of that name._

He didn’t think much of the guy from the bar at first. He doesn’t even remember what he looked like. Just that voice. He knows the voice. And after what he did….

A hand touches him— _touches_ —and it’s not large and made of armor. It shakes him without the soft scrape of metal on metal and he remembers waking up and finding his hair undone and his clothes….

He reacts without thought, clapping his hands together and drawing out the familiar automail blade. He thrusts in the direction of the touch. He won’t be caught unawares again. He opens his eyes to finally put a face with the voice in his head and a jolt runs through him every bit as strong as the one from the alchemy cabinet the day before.

Dark, nearly black eyes wide with shock meet his and Ed’s breath catches in his throat. Mustang’s head is tilted back as far as it will go and he stands motionless, probably afraid to breathe with the automail blade pressed against his throat. He could’ve killed him. Mustang just tried to wake him up and he’s so fucked up he nearly killed him.

Ed pulls his arm back, rapidly but carefully, and quickly transmutes the blade away. He can’t look at him. What must he think of him? He needs to get out of here. Now.

“Fullmetal….”

Mustang moves a fraction closer and Ed flips over the back of the couch to get away. He knows he’s been on edge with his constant nightmares and now the homunculi wanting to sacrifice them for who knows what purpose. But he’s never nearly killed someone _on accident_! He knew this was a bad idea. He shouldn’t even be around people. At least he can’t hurt Al any more than he already has. Thank goodness Winry’s gone. One less person to hurt.

Ed shakes his head when Mustang moves again and bolts for the door. He has to get away. He needs to rethink everything. He nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to get away but he catches himself on the door jam on the way out of the library. He runs for the front door and his hands fumble with the knob. C’mon, c’mon, open, open before Mustang stops him.

“Edward, wait! Stop!”

But he’s not stopping. He runs out the door, off the porch and down the street. He doesn’t know where he’s going and he doesn’t care. He’s just going away as fast as he possibly can.


	4. Chapter 4

Roy walks from Central’s Southern Gate Command Center with his usual long, quick stride. He passes through one slanting shadow after another with his back straight and eyes carefully scanning the darkness before him. From an outsider’s perspective he should look completely normal, at least that’s what he’s trying for. He heads down the side entrance’s marble stairs, his coat billowing behind him and his chin up confidently. It’s a pose and an act he mastered years ago and one he rarely drops out in public, even when there shouldn’t be anyone else around. It’s far past the normal time everyone leaves, but you never know who could be watching, especially now.

He pauses at the bottom of the steps to cast a glance at Central Command looming in the air above the city. Spotlights highlight its walls and nothing seems amiss but Roy flips up the collar of his coat and shivers. It’s too early for there to be a chill in the air. He looks away and further up the street to where other buildings hunker silent and undisturbed in the growing darkness. He’s most likely the only one still around, but that’s not too unusual. Working long hours, many times in secret, is a combination of habit and pretense he adopted long ago when his plans solidified in the dusty aftermath of Ishval. His eyes linger on the regal columns of one building sparsely illuminated by the streetlights then he turns sharply on his heel and moves down the street.

The soft rush of water floats from the openings in the road and are a soothing accompaniment to the cadence of his steps. It doesn’t take long for him to walk to the parking garage two streets over to reach his car. His rank affords him a position on the first level and closer to the exit than most. His car is the only one left in the yellowed lighting and when he reaches it, he opens the door quickly and slides inside its dim interior. It’s only then his hand goes to his side and he closes his eyes against the strain of keeping up appearances. 

His shoulders droop as he tilts his head back against the seat, his hair falling over his eyes to hide the squint of pain. He gives a brief thought to tinting the windows but discards it like always. It’s easier to be seen than have people wondering what he could be up to. He never planned on getting injured and even though he’s healing, it’s not fast enough to suit him. He’s managed to hide his injuries all day, but it hasn’t been without cost. He’ll probably be sore the rest of the night.

Roy takes a deep breath, opens his eyes then starts the car. The day is far from done. He still needs to meet with Breda then try and track down Fullmetal. He pulls the seatbelt into place and winces at the pressure it puts on his side as he starts the car and puts it into gear. He nearly went without it when he went to check on Fullmetal during his lunch break, but that turned out to be the least of his worries. He hadn’t expected to find Fullmetall sleeping on his couch instead of researching, but that surprise was nothing compared to the reaction he received when he touched him.

He can almost still feel the press of sharp metal against his neck and he tilts his head up slightly at the memory. If he’d been any closer to Ed…he doesn’t even want to think about what might’ve happened. But why would Ed react so strongly to such a simple touch? He’s seen that reaction before, but only in veterans of heavy combat. After Ishval, there were many times he woke up on edge, unsure of his surroundings with the remembered whispers of armed conflict echoing in his ears. More than once he actually readied his fingers to snap and incinerate some harmless nighttime sound. But Ed’s never been in a situation like that. For him to react so strongly….

Something else is going on, and he doesn’t like the possibilities.

Roy grips the wheel tighter as he eases his way in and out of the light flow of traffic. The blur of lights and indistinct faces behind washed out glass pass all around him as he heads away from the central part of the city to a more industrial area on the west side, and his mind wanders. There’s no doubt Fullmetal won’t want to talk about what happened, particularly with the way he bolted, but he needs to get to the bottom of this regardless. He doesn’t need Ed going off halfcocked without knowing why. And if there is someone responsible for this particular reaction, he’ll need to make sure they’re dealt with accordingly.

The streets are darker on this side of town and he deliberately parks a few blocks away from his destination in a less trafficked area. He doesn’t necessarily need people seeing him get out of a car. It’s not a horrible part of town but it’s a little rough. Taking a few precautions never hurts. He pulls off his long black coat then shrugs out of his blue military jacket which he tosses in the back seat. The shadows will turn the blue into black and make it indistinguishable as anything remarkable. He slides the black coat back on then adjusts it to comfortably cover the sidearm and shoulder holster on his left side. He’s never had any trouble in this particular establishment, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared on this side of town. He has a pair of ignition gloves in his coat pocket as well.

Roy opens the door and climbs out, taking care to examine his surroundings, one of his usual precautions. There’s a couple having a loud conversation two dim streetlights away and someone sleeping in a doorway about a block ahead. He can just discern the wavy outline of a humanoid lump instead of neat lines and shadows. The buildings around him sag against each other and look like it’s been years since someone’s laid a caring hand on them. Paint peels from the siding and grime clings like a second skin. From several buildings, the glint of broken windows refract light like sharp toothed will-o-wisps. The ones still whole are caked with who knows what and between some buildings alleys gape like the maws of bottomless pits. It’s not exactly the place a colonel wanting to climb the military ladder would go. It’s a place where no one cares about anyone else’s business. He turns to lock the car then heads down the dark street.

It’s only a few minutes’ walk before he sees the aged sign hanging over the entry to the Searing Knife and he gives it a wistful smile. Like everything else in this area the paint is chipped and fading but splashes of color still cling to the old fashioned dagger. One edge of the blade almost seems to glow and for Roy it feels like seeing an old friend. Hughes always insisted on this place to unwind when he was in Central and it wasn’t only because it was far enough out of the way to not be frequented by most soldiers and officers. It was the name. He delighted in the ingenious play on each of their particular specialties.

“Damn, you Hughes. Why did you have to be so damned sentimental?” Roy lets the wistful smile linger on his lips and as he enters the familiar door he immediately starts to relax. The bar may not be upscale, but it is comfortable and that’s why he still comes here. 

An old wooden bar stretches out to his left as he enters the door and it seems nearly every stool is filled. Small groups of bar flies crowd around tall, round tables with their heads leaned in to chat, and beyond them, as the building wraps around, larger tables and booths line the back wall for more intimate conversation. In the area to his right are pool tables and a dart board Roy knows Falman would be particularly fond of. The place is primarily patronized by the blue collar side of town and that’s part of the reason he never comes in wearing his full uniform. No one would make a fuss, but he does it out of courtesy. It’s not a military bar and he has no desire to make people feel uncomfortable. Unlike many places he goes, when he comes here, he’s not looking to stand out. He’s just looking to be another face in the crowd. 

That was always a particular benefit when he’d meet Hughes here to exchange information he shouldn’t have been privy to. Most times their quiet conversations were completely disguised under the loud raucous drinking of working men unwinding after a long day. Afterward Hughes would normally try to get him to unwind some, but he would usually cut things short and remind him he had a wife to get home to. He sucks in a sharp breath at the thought Hughes will never get that rematch on their last pool game and heads over to the bar.

He orders a beer and after a minute spots Breda at a table at the end of the bar where the tall tables change into shorter ones. He’s angled so he’s facing most of the bar area with only a single unoccupied wall booth behind him. Roy thanks the bartender with a nod and a smile when she delivers his frothy mug and he pushes a generous tip across the bar. He knows from experience he won’t be bothered unless they specifically ask to be. As she returns his smile and pockets his tip he realizes he doesn’t recognize this particular barmaid, but tonight is not the night for introductions. Instead he picks up his beer and heads down the narrow isle between the bar stools and the tables to join Breda at a round, wooden table.

“Sir,” Breda nods as soon as he sits down in the seat nearly across from him. It leaves Roy with a view toward the door and only a couple booths at his back. Nothing eventful has happened here before but it never hurts to be too careful. Roy smiles at Breda’s formality even in a place like this. Havoc would’ve probably answered him with a “yo, chief” or something similar. It’s a marked contrast between the two good friends. Roy’s face falls at the thought of Havoc and he nods back to Breda.

“Lieutenant.” He takes a sip of his beer and waits for Breda to do the same before speaking as casually as possible. “I trust your trip back was uneventful.”

“It was.” Roy nods and slides both hands around his mug. He hadn’t expected any issues for him on the way back, but it’s good to have that verified. He’d sent him to find Dr. Marcoh as soon as Breda informed him of the existence of a Philosopher’s Stone. He might not have been able to use the one inside the homunculus to heal Havoc, but if the doctor had a stone he was willing to try again. “However, there were a few details I failed to mention on the phone.”

Roy was fairly certain that was the case, particularly when Breda asked him out for a beer. Situations like this are one of the reasons he makes a point to socialize with his subordinates on a regular basis. Over the years, many officers have looked down on his fraternization with those under his command. But in a circumstance like this they can meet and exchange private information without anything seeming amiss. He’s always found the best way to keep people from suspecting something is to make them think they’re seeing everything, especially when they aren’t.

“Gossip too juicy for the open phone lines, eh?” Roy smiles devilishly and for anyone watching their conversation it would seem to fit right in line with his womanizing persona. Another thing he’s learned is if people think your only serious concern is skirt chasing practically anything you do can be written off as trying to get laid. Breda returns his grin with a fabricated one of his own as he takes a drink of his beer and leans forward in his chair with a conspiratorial air that gives more truth to the lie.

“You could say that. It seems the good doctor was much too busy to see a soldier like me.” There’s a quirk of his lips that could be interpreted as a sly smirk but Roy knows it for the concern it is. Under other circumstances Breda would be trying to hide the identity of his intended contact. The fact he isn’t tells Roy he must’ve needed to be more obvious about his visit. Breda is always thinking several moves ahead so he must’ve had a good reason to expose the nature of his visit to outsiders.

“I see.” Breda locks his eyes on him though Roy pretends not to notice. It’s all a continuing chess match that Breda is more than capable of playing. “So, business must be good then?” He glances around the bar to give the appearance he’s scoping the place out, but in reality he’s very careful not to make eye contact with anyone. The last thing he needs is to draw more attention than necessary.

“Apparently so.” Roy still feels his eyes on him as he looks across the room feigning boredom, one arm resting on the table carelessly as his fingers tap the tabletop. Roy feels more than sees Breda put his hands on the table and lean forward even more, his voice lowered as if he were imparting a particularly salacious piece of gossip. “It seems his last customer happened to look _exactly_ like Braidy…kins.”

It’s all Roy can do to suppress a smile when Breda uses Havoc’s version of his codename. He’d originally intended Breda’s codename to be Braidy, but apparently that wasn’t cute enough for Havoc. The memory twists the ever present knot of worry deeper into his gut. He shoves the feeling aside and focuses on the meaning behind Breda’s words. Apparently their shape shifter can take the face of people they know. That’s definitely something they’ll need to take into consideration from here on out. Roy turns his head to look back at Breda, silently acknowledging the message.

“It seems Evangeline is quite adept at altering her appearance.” There’s a casual smirk on Roy’s lips but his eyes betray the seriousness of his words. Thankfully they’d worked out codenames for the homunculi right before Breda left. It makes the conversation much easier, particularly in public. “One could almost say she’s capable of looking like a completely different person.”

“Well, you know how those high society type ladies are.” Breda chuckles as he reaches for his beer mug again and leans back to slouch in his seat. He waves the mug in the air then says, “You could almost say they leave a trail of destruction in their wake.”

Roy nods and glances toward the door of the bar. So they didn’t even try to cover their tracks when they took Marcoh. That could’ve been by necessity, but with as careful as these monsters seem to have been in the past he doubts it was an oversight. It’s more likely the blatant abduction is a message, but for who is the real question. Fullmetal and Armstrong? It’s a possibility considering Ed said the Fuhrer specifically told them to stay silent. Odds are it was by watching them they found Marcoh in the first place. But they can’t discount the possibility the message was for them. They’ll need to ensure they stay on guard.

“Sooooo…any more news about Havoc?”

Roy hears the concern in Breda’s voice before he sees it in his eyes. That’s when he realizes Breda must’ve come straight from the train to meet him here. It explains why he’s obviously on edge. Breda’s done a masterful job of trying to look casual, but Roy hasn’t missed the way he’s shifted in his chair and cast quick glances to the door of the bar. He’s probably planning to stop by the hospital after they’re done here.

“He still hasn’t woken up.” Breda’s face immediately falls and the casual easiness he was projecting flickers into tension before he controls himself again. Roy knows the feeling all too well. When he seared Havoc’s wounds closed, he did the best he could with the state he was in. A nurse at the hospital said he definitely saved Havoc’s life…but even that didn’t make him feel any better when it turned out Havoc still had internal bleeding. By the time they got him to the hospital he was already in hypovolemic shock. Shortly after that he slipped into a coma.

The initial diagnosis was he’d lost too much blood for his body to recover and it was going to be a wait and see game. That’s why he sent Breda after Dr. Marcoh. Surgery subsequently stopped the internal bleeding and transfusions restored his blood volume but for days it was still touch and go to the extent that even as a colonel he couldn’t get reliable information. Everything was constantly changing from one moment to the next. “But he’s stabilized now. The doctors are saying…it could just be a matter of time before he wakes up.”

Breda thumps down his beer mug and stares into the depths of the amber liquid intently. They all know it’s entirely possible he’ll never wake up. If only he could’ve managed to do _something_ with the damn stone when he had it in his hand! He sighs softly and adds quietly, almost under his breath, “Hawkeye’s convinced she’s seen improvement. He’s not awake…but she’s certain he’s more responsive.”

Breda’s head snaps up and he gives Roy a hard, searching stare. He knows this look. He’s seen it before when Breda’s determining the veracity of someone’s words. Roy’s learned to trust his instincts on such matters and he hopes Breda can read the truth in his eyes on this occasion. His stare bores into Roy a moment longer before he lets out a long breath and nods as he lifts his glass.

“That’s good to hear.” He downs the rest of his beer and smiles slightly. “If anyone’s in tune enough with Havoc to tell, it would be the Lieutenant.” Roy tilts his head curiously and Breda shrugs. “I just think she’s able to read any of us. Probably more than we’d like.”

Roy nods in agreement. Hawkeye is exceedingly perceptive particularly when their safety is involved. Now that they know Envy can and will take the shape of one of their own, they’ll need to step up security even more. Before the end of the day tomorrow he wants to ensure each of his subordinates has a subtle cue they can make to verify they are who they appear to be. They can’t take _anything_ for granted. But they can deal with that tomorrow. For now there’s no reason to hold up Breda any longer.

“If that’s all, Lieutenant….” Roy raises his hand to signal for another drink. Having another once Breda leaves will further the impression that this was nothing more than a social outing. He waits to make eye contact with the bartender when Breda draws his attention by clearing his throat.

“Actually…sir, there was one other thing.” Roy drops his arm and focuses his attention on the strange look Breda’s giving him. He looks amused and contrite at the same time and Roy doesn’t understand. He’s also rubbing his thumb against the handle of his mug rather insistently. Did he miss something? Breda coughs behind a closed fist and indicates Roy should look behind him with his eyes. “I thought you should know that I chose this table for a reason.”

He looks over Roy’s shoulder again and Roy frowns as he turns in his seat. He thought Breda chose this table for strategic purposes. What other purpose could he have missed? He’s already been surveying the room. He looks around and doesn’t see anything but the usual, rowdy after hours crowd. There’s a few quieter couples and one or two individuals drinking alone. He doesn’t see anything out of plac—

Hold on a second.

Roy blinks then his eyes widen in surprise. He can’t be seeing what he thinks he is. He shakes his head quickly, as if to clear his head but there’s no mistaking the sight in front of him. The blond shock of hair, the arrogant red coat, and the gleaming automail in plain view across the table in a way he never would allow if he weren’t passed out leaves no question to his identity. Ed’s here, obviously drunk, and somewhere within the rising anger inside him is a twist of guilt that he might be partially responsible for this. That alone is enough to make him want to drag Ed out of here by that long, blond ponytail.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“No, sir. I’ve had my eye on him since I got here a little over half an hour ago.” Roy glances back to see some of the amusement has left Breda’s face. If anything he looks as tense as when they were talking about Havoc. Despite Fullmetal’s protests to the contrary, he is a part of Roy’s unit and they’ve developed the habit of worrying over him. “He was still drinking something at first, but he’s been like that since before you walked in.”

Roy balls his right hand into a fist as his jaw clenches. Is Fullmetal really this foolish? Scar is still on the loose in Central and he comes to a bar on the shady side of town to get shitfaced drunk? He stands so rapidly his chair scrapes loudly against the aged wood floor. He takes several steps toward the booth to confront the little twit when he feels a hand on his arm. He hadn’t realized Breda had followed him.

“Colonel, I’m not sure what’s going on, but he looked pretty miserable before he passed out.” Roy tries to pull his arm away but for a moment longer Breda holds firm then lets his hand drop away. “Should I call his brother to come get him?”

“No need, Lieutenant. I’ll deal with Fullmetal.” His words are clipped as anger seethes through him at Edward’s stupidity, but the feel of Breda’s presence still at his side causes him to look back at him once more. He looks sympathetic and concerned as if he were afraid Roy was going to be too hard on him. Roy sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you for looking after him. And if you see Elizabeth tonight, please make sure she’s apprised of Evangeline’s visit.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be happy to—”

“Do you ever talk ‘bout anything but women?” The words are muffled and slurred as the blond mop on the table shifts slightly. His automail hand reaches out blindly for the half empty drink with a straw and Roy quickly moves it out of his reach. The fingers awkwardly flex against air before falling still on the table again. Ed snorts against his other arm which he’s using for a pillow and mutters just loud enough to be heard. “Damn, skirt chasin’ bastard….”

Roy hears Breda stifle a laugh and he gives him a sharp look that mostly schools his amused features, then he turns his attention back to Ed. In other circumstances he might join in on Breda’s amusement, but this is neither the time nor the place. He reaches out to pick up the glass filled with some slushy pinkish liquid and takes a sniff. He makes a face at the sickeningly sweet scent and puts the glass back on the table, again far out of Ed’s reach.

“Fullmetal. Get up!” A slight jerk of the form slumped over the table and a low grunt are the only responses he gets. He can already feel the attention his sharp words have drawn their way and he grinds his teeth in frustration. How did Ed even get served? Roy scans the table and sees his silver pocket watch haphazardly thrown to the side. Well that answers that question. He picks up the watch and slips it into his coat pocket as he leans down close to Ed’s ear. “Edward, don’t make me pull you out of here by your hair….”

Another low snort, muffled by his forearm, causes Breda to suck in a breath beside him. At least someone knows he’s not playing around. Ed finally lifts his automail arm unsteadily and makes a shooing motion with his hand. “As if. G’way, bastard. Lemme ‘lone.”

A slow grin spreads across Roy’s face. His blood may be boiling at Ed’s insubordination, but that’s alright. If he wants to act like a child, he’s going to be treated like a child. Roy reaches down for the long, blond strands carelessly tied back at the nape of Ed’s neck. He wraps his hands around them and gives a sharp, painful jerk.

Ed sits up suddenly and if Roy weren’t already so angry the stunned look of shock and pain on his face would almost be comical. His eyes are wide and bloodshot and his mouth hangs open as he stares up at him. Roy tightens his grip on his hair and leans down, right in his face as he lowers his voice, “I _will_ drag you out of here by your hair if I have to. If you don’t want to look like a petulant child I suggest you get up and walk out of here like a man.”

Ed’s eyes widen even more in fear or disbelief he’s not sure but he does nod his head slowly as much as Roy’s grip will allow. Roy releases his hair and watches as Ed presses his automail hand to the table, but the instant he tries to stand he immediately falls back down into the booth seat. Roy shakes his head at the pathetic display. It’s one thing to drink. It’s another to make a spectacle in public. Roy reaches down to pull him up by his automail arm, pulling it over his shoulder, but as Ed gets to his feet he nearly takes them both down. Roy manages to catch himself on the top of the seat but thankfully Breda rushed to his other side to support him. How the hell can someone so _small_ be so damn heavy?

Ed’s head lolls against his shoulder and Roy makes a face at the acrid scent of his breath. Has he been here ever since he left his house? That’s over half the day! Roy’s mouth thins and he wraps his arm tight around Ed’s waist under his coat. It takes another few moments to get him steady and once he does he looks over at Breda. “Would you make sure he’s settled up at the bar? I don’t need someone chasing after us for trying to skip out.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.” Breda watches Ed closely as he carefully pulls away and Roy has to tighten his grip on the automail arm slung over his shoulder when he nearly collapses. Ed gets his feet back under him, though Roy isn’t certain if it’s a conscious move or not, and leans more heavily against him. Roy waits for him to become steady leaning against one person instead of two then slowly turns toward the door. He makes it about halfway across the room with a combination of dragging and carrying Ed when the comments from the din around them filter through to his hearing.

“…likes ‘em pretty young, doesn’t he?”

“Probably got him drunk on purpose.”

“Pretty pathetic if you ask….”

Roy grits his teeth and focuses on setting one foot in front of the other. If Ed didn’t wear such an oversized, ridiculous coat all the time he wouldn’t look half as young as he does. He’s far from being a child anymore but with the way he acts and dresses you wouldn’t know it. He’s about ready to treat him like the child he pretends to be and throw him over his shoulder when he hears a drunk snort against his ear.

“Looks like ‘m gonna ruin your reputation, bastard.”

Roy flinches and jerks him tighter against his side when he realizes the little brat is actually conscious. “If you don’t help me out a little more, Fullmetal, I will throw you over my shoulder like the dead weight you are.”

He feels a shift in body tension and he wonders if Ed’s actually considering making him do it. As it is his side is already killing him from supporting Ed’s weight. He’s not even sure if he could follow through on his threat but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. He takes a breath, ready to try and pick him up when the heavy arm over his shoulder suddenly lightens fractionally. Ed still can’t stand under his own weight, but he is able to put a little more weight on his own feet. Roy blows out a relieved breath when the pain in his side subsides marginally. Thankfully as they reach the door Breda comes hurrying over from the bar.

“Man, Ed, I’ve never seen someone rack up such a bill in one afternoon.” Roy scowls at Breda’s words and the near look of awe on his face and he will definitely be reimbursed from _Ed’s_ stipend. He tightens his hand on the metal wrist over his shoulder as the three of them stumble their way awkwardly through the door. “Gotta hand it to you though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone piss the Colonel off this much this fast. You’re lucky you didn’t get singed.” 

“The night isn’t over yet,” Roy grumbles as they make their way out onto the sidewalk. He glances around to see the arguing couple from earlier is gone but the person sitting on the stoop, who happens to be an old man, is still there and seems to be watching them as they come closer. Roy doesn’t see any potential threats yet and he focuses on getting Ed’s dead weight down the street. “Granted if Scar chose tonight to track us down, we’d be done for.”

“Why would you even say—” 

“Hey! I can still…’lchemy.” Ed attempts to bring his hands together but apparently forgot his arms are around Roy and Breda’s shoulders. Roy’s head collides with Ed’s and he jerks his hand back into place over his shoulder as Ed groans from the contact. He doesn’t even want to know what array he was attempting to activate. Roy has sudden images of streets cleaved in half surrounded by crumpled buildings in the wake of a drunk Ed.

“Stop it, Fullmetal! You’re just going to draw more attention to us.” At least right now they don’t look like state alchemists. Though after their last encounter Scar should be well aware of what they look like. Roy glances over to see Breda holding Ed’s gloved wrist the same way he’s holding onto his right arm, extra tight. They don’t need any alchemy from the drunken prodigy tonight. “We’re almost to the car.”

They make their way past the bedraggled looking old man and Roy scowls at him when he looks Ed up and down like a piece of meat. He’s not sure why until he realizes Ed’s shirt has been pulled up from where he has his arm around his waist. He tries to tug his shirt down, but with as much as he’s leaning against Roy it’s not happening. This really isn’t the part of town for someone who looks like Ed to appear so helpless. “Come on. Keep moving. We’re almost there.”

Breda picks up on the urgency in his voice and between the two of them they manage to hurry Ed down the street with a little more success. Soon enough his car comes into view and he breathes a sigh of relief. He won’t completely relax until he gets him back to his hotel, but at least they’re one step closer. They maneuver Ed to the passenger side of the car and Breda’s arm replaces his around Ed’s waist.

“I got him. Go ahead and get the door, Colonel.” Roy nods and pulls Ed’s arm off him. He reaches in his pocket for the car keys and rolls his right shoulder. It’s already aching from the full weight of Ed’s automail. How does he manage dragging both of those heavy limbs around? Roy shakes his head and finally gets the door unlocked. He opens it and Breda manages to get him inside on his own before looking up at him. “You sure you won’t need any help, sir? I could ride over to the—” 

“No need, Lieutenant. I can have his brother help me with him.” He closes the door then turns to face Breda directly. “Thank you for your help with the matter. He was lucky you happened to be here tonight.”

“No need to thank me.” Breda snaps a quick salute then turns his eyes toward the car. “I just hope….” He shakes his head and rests his hand on top of the car. “I’ve never heard of him doing anything like this. Before he passed out….” He turns to face Roy once again, concern evident in his eyes. “There’s more to this, sir. I’m certain of it.” He locks his searching gaze with Roy’s again as he adds, “You’ll make sure he’s alright?”

Roy’s known Breda for much too long not to realize there’s more to his words than just casual concern. If he doesn’t see the answer he’s expecting he’ll go out of his way to look in on Ed himself. But that’s not necessary. Fullmetal has always been his responsibility, not his subordinates’, at least not directly. He meets Breda’s gaze directly and tells him in a less irritated voice than before, “I’ll get to the bottom of things. Fullmetal will be alright.”

Breda gives him one more penetrating stare before nodding his acceptance. This is one of the reasons Roy wanted Breda in his unit. He wants to look out for those around him and he’s smart enough to do it. The only downside is it’s near impossible to slip something by him without his noticing, but Roy will take that every time. He’d much rather have someone like Breda watching his back even if it means he sees more about him than he’d prefer.

“Good to hear it, sir.” And with a brief nod Breda turns around and heads the opposite direction. Roy watches after him for a moment then heads around the car to climb into the driver’s seat.

A resounding snore greets him the instant he opens the car door and his irritation with Fullmetal returns full force. Ed’s head is thrown back against the seat causing his mouth to hang open and his snores to echo in the small space. Roy slides behind the wheel and, after only a brief hesitation, slams the door closed as hard as he can. As expected the jolt wakes Ed and has him sputtering and looking around.

“Wha? Where am…. Colonel? ‘ow did I?”

“Relax, Fullmetal. I’ll have you back to your hotel and your brother in a few minutes.” He reaches forward to put the key in the ignition, but before he can do more than turn it Ed grabs his wrist in a vice grip. Roy whips his head around to reprimand him but the panicked look on his face takes him off guard.

“No. No, Mustang, you can’t.” He shakes his head violently then pauses and looks sick when his world probably spins before his eyes. He takes a deep breath then locks wide, golden eyes on Roy again. “Colonel, Al can’t see me like-like this. Please. Don’t.”

Roy stares at him, honestly stunned, because he can’t ever remember Fullmetal begging him for anything. His flesh fingers curl against the sleeve of his shirt and he actually has to peel them away with his other hand. “Alright. Calm down, Edward. I suppose I can…take you back to my place until you sober up.”

“Thank-thank you…C-c-col….”

He sees Ed turn green and he probably knows what’s coming before Ed even does. He quickly leans across the car and pushes open the passenger side door. Then he shoves Ed halfway out the car making sure to grab the back of his collar so he doesn’t fall out completely. Ed makes a startled sound, but before he can even begin to react he’s retching on the pavement. A low moan follows the wet splatter sound and Roy waits until he hears Ed spitting on the concrete before hauling him back in the car. Ed slumps down in the seat with his eyes closed and Roy grits his teeth as he stretches across the car once more to close the door.

He slides back behind the wheel and presses his hand to his left side until the throbbing from the stretch across the car subsides. At least Ed didn’t mess up the car. If he had, he’d be the one cleaning it, drunk or not. Roy takes a slow breath, as deep as he can manage with the pain in his side, then brings his hands to the wheel. He presses the clutch in to pull the car in gear and pulls onto the road. Time to get out of here.

“You’re ‘urt.”

“What?” Roy jerks his head to the side to see Ed staring at him through slitted eyes. He’s rolled on his side against the seat and is now staring directly at him. Roy deliberately sits up straighter, taking on the posture and act he’s worn most of the day and shakes his head as he concentrates on the road. “I’m fine, Fullmetal.” He hears a sound that could be a snort or a moan and adds, “You should be more concerned about yourself considering you nearly vomited in my car.”

“Why you gotta be Colonel _Shit_?” Ed mumbles and Roy can barely discern his words. “Where’d ‘ustang go?” He rolls against the seat again so he’s facing forward and Roy can only guess at his meaning. But if Ed thinks he’s going to go easy on him after pulling such a foolish stunt he has another thing coming.

He waits until he’s stopped at an intersection to look over at him and he can only shake his head in disgust. He’s never had much patience for drunks. Not like this. It’s one thing to have a few too many drinks with friends, but this is nothing short of disgraceful. It’s ridiculous to drink until you’re physically ill and even worse to do so in public. He scowls as he pulls through the intersection and can no longer hold his tongue. “What were you thinking? Do you know how reckless that was? What were you even doing in a bar on that side of town?”

“Huh?” Ed’s head lolls over to the side again and Roy can feel his eyes on him. “Dunno. Just first place I came to.”

Roy’s hands tighten on the wheel when he misses the point entirely. He forces himself to relax as they draw closer to his neighborhood. He won’t get any answers out of Ed if he attacks him. Drunk or not, he knows Ed well enough to realize that. He takes a breath and starts again, this time trying to tone down the irritation in his voice. “What I mean is why were you there at all? I thought you made it pretty clear the other night you didn’t like the taste of alcohol.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ed runs his hand over his face and throws his head back against the seat. “That bartender. He, I mean she, I mean, yeah. She made me somethin’ that tasted….” He reaches up suddenly to cover his mouth and Roy’s certain he’s about to empty whatever’s left in his stomach all over his seat. But instead he just belches and runs the back of his hand over his mouth as he makes a disgusted face. “Sweet. It was sweet.”

Roy sighs when he still doesn’t get the answer he’s looking for, but he doesn’t immediately press him again. Instead he waits until he makes it to his street before even casting a glance over at him. Ed seems to be dozing again, if his snores are any indication, and Roy lets him as he parks in front of his house instead of in the alleyway between houses. It should be easier getting him inside this way. Finally he kills the engine and turns toward him.

“Fullmetal, we’re here.” He reaches out and shakes Ed’s shoulder brusquely. He’s still in no mood to coddle him for his stupidity. “Wake up. Time to go inside and sober up.”

“Wha? Al, lemme….” Ed blinks his eyes and wearily takes in his surroundings. “Oh, yeah, Mustang. K, I’m…k.” He reaches for the door handle and completely misses it. Roy shakes his head and squeezes his shoulder.

“Just stay there. I’ll come around.” Ed blinks at him questioningly then nods slowly, muttering something Roy can’t make out. Roy was hoping after being sick Ed might have sobered up some but so far it doesn’t look like it. He opens his door to get out then makes his way around the car. Thankfully Ed’s not leaning against the door and he’s able to open it without him falling out. In the condition he’s in, Roy’s not sure if he could get him to his feet on his own if he did. He leans inside and pulls Ed’s left arm over his shoulder. “Come on, Fullmetal. Help me. Don’t make me drag you.”

He’s a little surprised when Ed does lean into his touch. He feels his hot breath against his neck as he levers him out of the car and he has to bite his lip to keep from making a sound when his burn wounds pull again. Ed sways on his feet, even with his support, but he is actually standing a little more under his own power. It’s an improvement that should help get him to the door. He reaches around Ed to shut the car door then holds tight to the flesh hand over his shoulder as he turns for the house.

“It’s not that far.” He wraps his arm around Ed’s waist again underneath the long, red coat. Ed leans his head against his shoulder but he does manage to put one foot in front of the other. It’s the first time Ed’s seemed to try and help him since he and Breda first dragged him from the bar. “That’s it, now step up.” They make it onto the porch without wavering too much and as Roy finally unlocks the front door he realizes his side doesn’t hurt half as much as it did when he and Breda were both carrying him down the street.

He opens the door with his left hand then helps Ed through. They still need to talk and he plans to see what he can get out of him tonight while his guard’s down. If he waits until tomorrow, chances are Ed won’t tell him anything. Roy leads him over to the library door and as he presses his fingers to the hidden arrays to deactivate the trigger he hears Ed murmuring, “…one, two, three….”

He shoots him a curious look as he unlocks the door but Ed just drops his head back to his shoulder. Roy shakes his head then leads him into the library and over to one of the two armchairs facing the couch. Considering the reaction Ed had the last time he was on the couch, he doesn’t want to chance him sitting there, not to mention if he didn’t freak out he’d probably just end up passing out on it. He turns him so he drops down into the chair then takes a step back to look at the bedraggled young alchemist.

He’s a mess. There’s no getting around that fact. Half of his hair has pulled free from its tie and now covers much of his face. His head’s tipped forward and his arms hang limp over the sides of the chair. He’s slouched down in his oversized coat and Roy shakes his head at the fact it makes him look smaller than he really is. For someone so worried about being called small, his clothing choices are questionable at best. Ed huffs softly and for the moment Roy lets him be. “Don’t go anywhere.” Not that he could, but with Ed you never know. “I’m going to make some coffee.”

He gets what might have been a nod or maybe Ed’s head was just drooping forward. Roy isn’t sure but it’s enough for now. He makes his way into the hall and pulls off his long black coat. He’ll need to get his uniform coat from the car but he can do that tomorrow. He hangs his coat on the rack then turns toward the small hall table and opens the drawer. His shoulder holster, along with his gun, comes off next and he puts them both in the drawer. He always tries to keep this gun downstairs since he has another up in his bedroom.

Considering the looks Ed’s given him when he unlocks the library, he probably thinks he’s overly cautious. But he has no idea what it’s like to be a colonel. There are times people will turn up unexpectedly and he doesn’t need the extent of his home resources to be common knowledge. He’s certain it was his inquiries into Hughes’ death that spurred on the Maria Ross incident. He tried to cover his tracks by researching at night with Sheska watching his back…but you can only hide so much. He keeps his library door locked when he’s not in it to discourage surprise guests from trying to enter.

Roy closes the drawer then heads down the hall to the kitchen. He’d prefer tea, but a good strong coffee should help sober Ed up a bit. He makes his way to the percolator to start some then considers his options for dinner. He doesn’t want to take too long with Ed here and he doubts he’ll want to eat much in his condition. In the end, he opts for a sandwich made with fresh bread he picked up yesterday from the café down the street. He eats the sandwich while standing at the counter watching the coffee brew. Once the coffee’s finished, he swallows down the last of the sandwich and pours cups for he and Ed. He puts the mugs on a tray along with a plate of the fresh bread then makes his way back to the library.

Ed’s still slouched in the chair with his head dropped forward, but surprisingly he’s not snoring. Roy takes the tray over to the small table between the chairs and sets it down. He picks up one of the mugs and then moves closer to Ed. “Fullmetal. Wake up. We still need to talk.”

“Not ‘sleep,” he mutters then lifts his head just enough to look at Roy through his tangled blond hair. He sees the cup when Roy holds it out to him and he takes it obediently but doesn’t take a sip. Instead he wraps his left hand around it while his right carefully holds the handle. He sniffs it then hides behind his hair again. “Don’ wanna talk.”

“You probably don’t want to eat either but I brought some fresh bread.” Roy moves to the other chair then picks up his mug and takes a sip. “I’m certain you didn’t eat before you went on your drinking binge. That makes it much worse. The bread should help a little.”

“It wasn’t a binge,” Ed snaps sullenly. Roy sighs, afraid he’s already missed any window of cooperation from him tonight. But then Ed takes a small sip of the coffee and after another moment reaches for a piece of the crusty bread. Roy hides his smile behind his cup as Ed chews on the bread. “Was just doing what you said anyway.”

Roy frowns and tightens his grip on his cup. He expected Ed to deflect the blame but he didn’t expect it to be on him. “I’m afraid I don’t remember telling you to get completely inebriated in a bar and pass out.” He takes another sip of his coffee before setting it aside on the tray with a clank. “I’m fairly certain I would have remembered such a conversation.”

“…’nel Shit,” Ed mutters under his breath and Roy leans forward in response.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear—”

“It was before. In the kitchen.” Ed brushes his hair out of his face but it immediately falls back the way it was. He makes a frustrated grunt then sets the cup aside and starts struggling with his coat. It takes a moment for Roy to realize he’s trying to get out of it and after watching him tangle himself even more he stands to help him. Ed bats his hands away at first then finally lets Roy help him. “About drinking to forget. That was working, ya know, before you started talking to me about it.”

Roy takes his coat and folds it over his arm, smoothing it out as he does. Ed slumps down in the chair again, legs wide apart with his feet braced on the floor. He looks sullen and bratty, but Roy doesn’t take much notice of that right now. It’s his words that bother him more. Has he actually influenced Ed to drink? Ed’s been dealing with the guilt from his aborted transmutation for years. Why would he suddenly need to forget? Is this just the first night of many drunken nights to come? He scowls and runs his hand over the red fabric hanging over his arm.

“Fullmetal, you were young. Drinking isn’t going to change anything that happened. You can’t move forward if you keep looking--”

“Wha?” Ed tilts his head back to shake some of the hair from his face as he looks up at Roy. Recognition spreads across his features and he makes an irritated sound and waves his hand. “Not talking about _that_! Pfft. Moron. But thanks for reminding me.” He turns his head downward again and the tangled strands of hair fall back over his face as he mutters, “Did ‘elp some with that too though….”

Roy sighs at the attitude and walks over to drape his coat over the back of the couch. He takes a minute to quell his anger and keep his focus. Alright, so it’s not about his past. Then something else must’ve happened. Was it his drawing a blade on him this morning? That’s not a shining moment, but it’s nothing to drink over. He rests his hands on the back of the couch and looks over it at him. “Edward, if it’s about this afternoon…there was no harm done. You don’t need to brood over it. I’m fine. However, I would like to know if this is a recurrent issue with people waking you up.”

“You’re….” Ed snorts loudly and reaches for a piece of bread. He shoves most of it into his mouth then unfortunately talks around it. “Not ‘bout you. Bastard. Al wakes m’ up.” He swallows down the bite in his mouth then reaches for the coffee again. “‘m just used to that. ‘s all.”

Roy watches him closely as he speaks and doesn’t miss how he fidgets with the handle of the mug then picks at the bread in his hand after setting the coffee aside. He’s not telling the whole story and he’s obviously hoping Roy will let it go. Well, that’s not happening. He moves around the couch and sits on it, facing Ed. He leans forward to rest his forearms on his thigh and laces his fingers together. “I see. So you habitually draw a blade on every person who’s not a seven foot tall suit of armor then.”

“I do not!” Ed sits up straight and scowls back at him. “I’m not crazy! I don’t even do that when I’m having nightma--” He cuts off sharply, obviously angry he revealed so much. He snatches his mug again then slouches down in the chair as he brings it to his lips, almost as if he were trying to hide behind it. “Forget it. S’nothin’.”

It’s obviously not nothing. Ed looks more uncomfortable by the second and it has alarms going off in Roy’s head. He was right before. That reaction _is_ caused by trauma which means something _else_ has happened to him. Roy’s eyes narrow and he keeps his voice low and level as he asks simply, “Who was he?”

“I don’t even know. I mean….” Ed fidgets in the chair again and he reaches back as if he were going to pull his coat around him. He blinks when he doesn’t find it and ducks his head forward, hiding behind his hair instead. “Nothin’ happened, Mustang. Just forget it. Was no one.”

Roy tenses at his reaction and suddenly things make a lot more sense. His attacking on being touched and the way he bolted without wanting to give an explanation. It even explains the “wanting to forget” with the alcohol. Ed has matured significantly, no doubt about it, but shouldn’t he be able to protect himself? He narrows his eyes again when he remembers how helpless he was passed out in the bar and he grips his interlaced fingers tighter together.

“Don’t give me that line, Fullmetal.” He keeps his words clipped and commanding. He is still drunk and hopefully an order will sink in more than a request. “What happened? What did he do to you?”

“Wha?” Ed raises his head to look at him then flinches in response. He shakes his head rapidly and puts his cup aside again. “No. No, no, no, it wasn’t like that. It was….” He pushes his hair out of his face several times then lets it drop back into place. “Didn’t do anything. Not really. Just…creeped me out. Didn’t even know ‘til Al woke me up outside the--” 

“OUTSIDE?” Roy pushes to his feet and stalks over to the fireplace. He has the urge to use his gloves to set it ablaze but he forces himself to refrain. Instead he reaches for the mantle and grips it tightly. He glances toward Ed and tries not to glare. “What were you doing sleeping _outside?_ And where was Alphonse? Edward, you can’t be so foolish—”

“I WASN’T!” Ed sits up straight, fists his hands on his thighs, and for the first time tonight his eyes look clear of inebriation. “We were out in Youswell and the damn townspeople threw me out of the inn as soon as they found out I was a military DOG!” Ed crosses his arms and slumps back in the chair. “Thanks for that by the way. Al came after me when he could. I didn’t even know anything was wrong until….” Ed looks away and his sudden confident demeanor evaporates. “Was just stupid,” he murmurs almost too soft for Roy to hear.

Roy takes a slow breath and reminds himself he’s not dealing with an ordinary soldier here. A trained soldier would be more responsive to commands when compromised. Ed is most definitely not a trained soldier. It’s going to take a significant amount of finesse to get anything out of Ed tonight, drunk or not. He pulls away from the fireplace with a more relaxed air. He walks slowly back to the chair beside Ed’s and sits down. He takes a drink of his cooled coffee and only after setting it back down does he turn toward Ed again.

“Those border towns can be particularly hard on enlisted men. I haven’t forgotten that.” He watches Ed closely and has the tension in him lessened slightly? Roy takes another breath then tries again. “No one has the right to make you feel uncomfortable, Edward. Even if nothing overt happened, it doesn’t mean nothing happened at all.”

Ed scrubs his hand over his face then picks at the fabric of his shirt with his left hand. “He just…he….” Ed shifts in the chair then takes a breath and blows it out while Roy holds his own. He’s certain that any interference from him now and Ed will shut down again. “He just said ‘e liked my name. An’…an’ he was drunk so I just ignored ‘im.”

“Sometimes words are more than words, Edward.” Roy keeps his tone soft and as non-threatening as he can manage. He knows Ed doesn’t trust him, but as long as he can keep from upsetting him more, he seems to want to talk. “So he talked to you. Anything else?”

Ed’s chest caves in as he curls in on himself a little more. He lowers his chin to his chest and spreads his automail hand out on his thigh. “No. I mean, I didn’t think so. It’s just….” His words trail off and it’s all Roy can do to keep from prodding him more. But he won’t. At least, he won’t yet. He watches Ed lift his left hand to his hair then tug on it sharply. “Was after Al woke me and I got up. My…my belt was…undone….” His voice gets softer and Roy actually has to lean forward to catch the last of them. “Piece of my hair…was cut….”

Roy’s hands fist and rage fills him in an instant. The very thought of some vagrant pawing over Ed makes his fingers itch to incinerate. He’s been forced to grow up so fast and now _this_? It’s unacceptable. He nearly jumps out of his chair then moves to kneel down in front of Ed. He doesn’t touch him, but he does look him in the eye. “Tell me who he was. What did he look like. Edward, I will make sure this man is dealt with.”

Ed blinks with what looks like stunned surprise then shakes his head, his hair falling more around his face as he does. “No. No, Mustang, no. Stop getting all, all….” Ed waves his hand in the air then looks down again. “All avenge-y like that. I don’t even know, I didn’t even really see him. I dunno what he….” He shakes his head again angrily. “I don’t need you to do anything! I’m not a child and nothing fucking happened. Just… _stop looking at me like that!_ I’m _not_ a damned victim! It was just fucking CREEPY!”

Roy rocks back on his heels and he nods slowly. He doesn’t like it, but if Ed can’t even describe him there’s no chance of finding someone like that from a border town. He takes a breath and deliberately schools his features in an attempt to wipe the rage off his face. He may be protective of Ed, but it’s not like Ed’s known that or would appreciate it. That’s why he’s always tried to work behind the scenes with him through manipulation or carrying out plans without his knowledge. For now he lets him vent.

“Why the fuck would someone cut my damned hair?! Do you know how stupid that looked? It’s still not grown out. Asshole.” Ed pulls at his hair then pushes it back over his shoulders angrily. “And why would someone fuck with my belt? It’s not like the fucker could do anything without waking me. It’s just, just fucking stupid! It’s just, it’s just all so-so….”

Roy sees the green look on his face before Ed even stops speaking and he launches to his feet to get the trash can by his desk. He rushes back just in time to get it in front of Ed who finally finishes emptying the contents of his stomach. So much for trying to get him to eat. He should’ve just given him water and sent him to bed. It would’ve been the right thing to do. But at least now he has an idea what’s going on with him. 

He moves beside him and pulls Ed’s hair back, holding it as he coughs and spits in the trash can. Ed dry heaves once more then groans out weakly. He wipes his hand across his mouth then says even more feebly, “Don’ feel so good, Colonel.”

“That much is obvious.” Roy holds his hair back with one hand then uses the other to quickly undo the tie holding part of it back while Ed continues to grip the trashcan with both hands. He moves with purpose, pulling his hair out of his face and retrying it with efficiency. He doesn’t want Ed to think he’s playing with his hair, not after what happened to him. Ed spits in the can once more then pushes back into the chair. He looks completely defeated and Roy can’t see any reason to keep this up any longer. He’s obviously not sobering up tonight.

“Thank-thanks,” Ed pants out and closes his eyes.

He looks like he’s about to pass out and Roy really doesn’t want him doing that here. He’d move him to the couch, but he’s still a little worried about him waking up there. The chair’s too hard to sleep in properly so that leaves taking him upstairs. He has a guest room, but right now that bed is covered in all the boxes he obtained from Gracia regarding Hughes’ private notes and research. She let him take everything and so far he’s barely scratched the surface. He really doesn’t want to bother with clearing that out tonight so that just leaves one place. Apparently Fullmetal’s going to be getting his bed tonight.

Roy sighs and shakes his head. How does he end up in these situations and how is it always related to Ed? He toes the trashcan out of the way then moves in front of Ed again. He snorts softly at the pitiful sight then takes a deep breath. “Come on, Edward. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Huh? Al?” Ed blinks up at him with confusion and Roy can tell he’s lost him. He doesn’t know if he can carry him upstairs, but maybe if he can just get him to his feet he can go from there.

“No, not Al.” He leans forward and grabs the arm closest to him and slings it over his shoulder. His left hand glides over cool automail as his right slides underneath Ed to pull him to his feet. “Come on, help me out just a little, alright?” He pulls hard, trying to lift with his legs, but his wounds still pull sharply. Ed’s a dead weight at first, but once he gets him moving he nearly knocks him to the ground as he leans into Roy with full force. “That’s it. On your feet. Just follow me.”

Ed wobbles on his feet but then leans into Roy much like he did on the walk from the car. Ed’s knees nearly buckle as they make it through the library door but somehow Roy manages to keep them both on their feet. He just keeps putting one foot in front of the other while dragging Ed along with him. Finally he reaches the base of the stairs and he swears nothing’s ever looked so damn impossible in his life.

“Alright, Edward, I need you to step up with me. Right foot first.” He doesn’t expect much, but surprisingly Ed does exactly as he’s told. His eyes are closed and Roy doubts he’s still fully conscious, but at least he’s finally taking commands. “That’s it. Now another. Good, keep going.” Somehow he gets Ed into a rhythm and eventually they make it up the stairs.” He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, but at least Ed’s still moving with him. “Just a little further,” he pants as they round the banister and stumble their way past the bathroom and guest room to his bedroom.

It’s only a few more steps to the bed and as soon as he pulls back the covers he nearly shoves Ed onto it. Ed falls face first into his pillow and Roy takes a moment to catch his breath before he leans down to unlace Ed’s boots. They each hit the ground with a hard thud and Roy turns his attention to trying to get Ed in the bed properly. It takes a little maneuvering but finally he has him on his back with a pillow under his head and the covers pulled up. It’ll have to do.

Roy runs his hand over his face as he surveys the bizarre sight then shakes himself out of staring. He needs to call Alphonse. If Ed doesn’t come back tonight he’ll be worried. He’s fairly certain Ed told his brother about his library despite his admonishments to do otherwise and he doesn’t need an irate suit of armor coming and beating down his door. He sighs audibly at the thought and turns to head back downstairs and to his library.

How does Ed always turn everything on its head? Even after all the years he’s spent watching him do that very thing all over Amestris it still baffles him. He slides his hand along the railing as he goes down the stairs and wonders exactly how his brother deals with his crazy mood swings and flamboyantly stubborn personality. It can’t be easy and it’s just garnered him a whole new respect for Alphonse.

He walks back into the library and over to the phone on his desk. It only takes a moment looking through the address book to find the number to their hotel. It’s rare he doesn’t have tabs on his wild subordinate and he jotted down the number as soon as they took up residence in town. He calls the hotel, asks for Al at their room, and waits for him to come to the phone. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Ed? Is that you? I thought you’d be home by now. Is everything okay?” Al’s concern comes through the line clearly even with the slight static and his tinny voice. Roy can only wonder how many times Fullmetal’s left his brother worrying this way without a phone call.

“Alphonse, it’s Colonel Mustang. I assume Edward told you he was with me….”

“Colonel! Oh, Colonel, yes, yes he did.” There’s a short pause then a rushed, “I hope that’s okay. I promise I haven’t said a word. Ed just—” 

“That’s quite alright, Alphonse.” A smile tugs at his lips at the way their personalities are polar opposites. Al’s so eager to please while Ed would sooner kick down doors if it suited him. “I just wanted you to know he’s fallen asleep while going through his notes and—”

“Oh, Brother is always doing that. Would you like me to come get him, Colonel?” There’s a clanking on the other end and Roy can only imagine he’s moving around. “It’s late, but I can be there soon. I’m sorry he put you out.”

“No, no it’s fine.” He chuckles at Al’s readiness to run right over. He probably would come and even carry him home if need be, but Roy knows Ed wouldn’t want that. He has the feeling Ed never told Alphonse about the man in Youswell. His vent seemed too raw for there to have been any previous discussions. “I have a guest room here. He’s more than welcome to use it. I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Thank you, Colonel! Brother doesn’t mean to worry me, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in things and…now I’m keeping you up, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I’m sorry if Ed was in the way too. Thank you for letting me know, Colonel!”

“You’re quite welcome, Alphonse. I’ll make sure to see he calls you in the morning.” Roy smiles again at the youthful exuberance in Al’s voice. Listening to him like this he can almost imagine the young man he would be were he not a walking suit of armor. He’s so different from his brother and he’s certain Ed’s worked hard to keep him this way. Al thanks him once more before he hangs up and then Roy’s finally left to decide what to do next.

He needs to clean the trashcan, but he’s thinking he might just do that in the morning. He’s tired, mentally and physically, and all he wants to do is collapse in bed. He lets out a long sigh knowing that’s not happening and once again he’s left considering his options. He could take the couch, but it’s really too short for him. It might work for Ed, but he really doesn’t want to wake all cramped up. He could clear off the guest bed but that’s even less appealing now than it was before. He probably should try and keep an eye on Ed anyway. That leaves the chair and ottoman in his bedroom. It’s not the best solution, but it’s better than all the rest.

He turns to shuffle out of the library and this time locks the door behind him. Then he slowly trudges up the stairs once more. He’ll clean tomorrow. It is his day off and he’s going to be sure to take it. He makes his way back to the bedroom then after a quick glance to Ed he heads blindly over to the wardrobe past the fireplace at the foot of his bed. He pulls out an extra blanket and pillow from the top shelf then goes back across the room to the chair in the corner facing the foot of the bed. He makes sure the shade is drawn on the window to the chair’s right then drops the blanket and pillow onto it. Ed won’t want to be woken by the sunrise the way Roy usually is.

Roy turns to walk around the bed again and this time he goes to the master bathroom to fill a glass of water for when Ed wakes up in the morning. He carries it, along with two aspirin, to the bedside table nearest Ed and leaves them within easy reach. Then he turns to look at his uninvited guest once more.

A long lock of his hair has pulled free of its tie again and Roy nearly reaches out to brush it off his face. He checks himself at the last minute because that’s too much like the creeper Ed described earlier. Instead he reaches down to grab Ed’s flesh arm that’s hanging off the bed. He pulls it up to rest it beside him when his fingers accidentally brush along the cool automail ones draped over his waist. Roy pauses then unconsciously traces over them with his hand before he realizes it. His eyes drift up to look at Ed’s face, so peaceful while asleep, and so different when he saw him this afternoon. Maybe it’s the alcohol but he looks older and without a care and so much like….

Roy jerks his hand away from the cool automail one the instant he realizes the turn his thoughts have taken. He inwardly slams the door closed on the past and the memories that nearly surfaced. He can’t go there. He won’t. Ed’s not the one from his past and he doesn’t know why he even—

He shakes his head hard enough to make his hair brush across his forehead and takes a step back from the bed. No. Not going there tonight or ever again. The past is over and there’s no point in looking back. You can only move forward. He spares one more glance to the sleeping form in his bed then staggers back to his chair. He pulls his shoes off then slides under the blanket as he rests his feet on the ottoman. He positions the pillow behind his head then forces himself to close his eyes. Memories nearly come to the surface once more but he tamps them down stubbornly. It’s only Ed. It’s only Ed and he’s only here because he’s drunk and passed out.

That’s all. And if he says it enough times he will believe it.


	5. Chapter 5

Marching.

On a tin roofed building.

And somehow he’s trapped inside.

The noise is deafening. Blinding. So loud he can’t form a thought. Hooves stampede through his head like hot nails through butter…which doesn’t make any sense! He moves, or tries to, and feels like he’s out in the Eastern Desert again. His mouth is parched, his lips cracking from the dryness, and he can’t open his eyes with all the sand and grit in them. He tries to remember how he got out here but his mind is cotton, each thought tangling into the next.

Desert. Hot. Blinding. Stumbling. Evangeline. Elizabeth. Who the hell are they? Sickeningly sweet on his tongue. His body aches. Was he in a fight? Scar. Homunculus. A creepy voice…. “I like your name.” Panic. Steel against soft flesh. Orders. Comfort and his head’s still throbbing. Is he in the hospital? Soft bed underneath him. It must be a good one. Doesn’t smell like a hospital. Smells clean and homey. Like after rain in the summer or after a warm fire. Soft sheets. He cracks his eyes open a slit and knives jab through his skull.

No. Not knives. Sunlight. Just a sliver but enough to penetrate the crusty grit in his eyes. He cracks them open again and his head throbs twice as much as before. Who would leave the light on in the desert, no, hospital. Must have been Mustang.

MUSTANG!

Ed sits up suddenly and he has no idea where he is. It’s definitely not the hospital. To the right is a round table with two chairs in front of two shaded windows. It looks like a place he and Al would study at, but he instinctively knows he and Al have never been here. There’s a trunk against the wall on the other side of an open doorway which looks like a bathroom. Who has a bathroom in their own bedroom? In the far corner past the table is a full bookcase and a closed wardrobe that tells him nothing. He whips his head around to look on the other side of the bed and when the room stops spinning he sees another open doorway that leads to a hall along with a dresser against the wall and a chair in the corner. He squints because the window on the far wall by the chair is the one with sunlight peeking through a crack in the blinds. He blinks to focus then notices the fireplace beyond the foot of the bed.

Fireplace. Books. A military issue trunk. A chill creeps through him when he can’t remember how he got here. It’s like waking up to find his clothes and hair undone. Did the fucking creeper find him here in Central? What did he do to him? There’s a lump in his throat he can barely breathe around and his heart throbs in time with his head. He rips the covers off with trepidation, but when he looks down he’s fully dressed minus only his boots. His hand goes to his belt to find it firmly still in place. He blinks again, looks around, and suddenly it all works its way into place.

He’s still in Mustang’s house!

When? How? He left yesterday afternoon. He ran and ran and ran until his side was aching and he couldn’t run anymore. Then he walked until his feet were aching too much to take another step. It was then he saw the flaming knife over a door and he still doesn’t know why he went inside. He needed to not think. Fuck, he’d nearly skewered Mustang just for waking him up! He’d thought he was back in Youswell and he didn’t know how to handle it. He couldn’t tell Al. He’d freak out too much and now Mustang had to think he was a freak and he just wanted to stop thinking.

That’s right. That’s when that nice bartender lady made him something that didn’t taste like shit. Ed gags and nearly pukes at the thought. How did he think it was good? Right now his tongue feels like a carpet has grown all over it and it’s all he can do not to gag again. He runs his hand over his face and tries to think past the thundercloud rumbling in his head. He was at the bar, in a hard booth…and he saw one of Mustang’s men. Breda. That’s it, Lieutenant Breda, but Breda didn’t seem to see him. Which was good. But he did see him didn’t he? He and Mustang both did.

Ed groans and leans back against the wooden headboard behind him. He closes his eyes and tries to remember what happened next but it’s all jumbled pieces. He remembers throwing up, but one second he thinks it was outside and the next it seems it was inside which makes no sense. He remembers stumbling down a dark street, then there was a car…. Was it Breda’s car? Does he have a car? He remembers Mustang’s face pinched with pain, his hand on his side. No, it was Mustang’s car. Mustang must’ve taken him here. But, why? Probably because of Al.

Oh, shit! AL!

He opens his eyes and frantically scans the room. The damn bastard has to have a phone, right? His eyes dart around the unfamiliar territory and widen when he sees a full glass of water to his left. Is that Mustang’s? Who gives a shit he thinks as he grabs it and gulps it down. Halfway through he spots the two aspirin and he snatches them, swallowing them with the rest of the water. He sets the glass down and knows that wasn’t random. Mustang left it for him. Shit. He must’ve been really fucked up for Colonel Shit to be nice to him. Or maybe, since they are at his house, he was using his alternate Mustang personality.

Ed shakes his head at the stupidity of the thought and looks around again. Ah, there on the other nightstand. A phone. He rolls across the bed that’s entirely too comfortable and too large for just one person. He shudders at the thought of being in the same bed as Mustang’s conquests but at this point he decides not to care. He reaches out for the phone and quickly dials the hotel number. He lays back on the bed and closes his eyes, throwing his arm over them as he waits for Al to come to the phone. 

“Morning, Brother! Did you sleep well?”

Ed shifts his arm and blinks his eyes open at the cheeriness in Al’s voice. He doesn’t sound worried. Why wouldn’t he be worried? Did he call him last night? If so…how could Al not tell he was drunk out of his mind? He clears his throat that seems to be full of half the Eastern Desert’s sand and refocuses his thoughts. “Um, yeah. Was, okay. You?”

“Don’t be silly, Brother. You know I don’t sleep. I did spend some more time with Ling, though. You know he won’t stop talking about learning soul bonding alchemy? He’s very determined. We actually worked on those notes you took. By the way, did you take some more?”

Ed’s mind began to wander once Al went off topic and he has to concentrate to figure out what he’s asking. Notes…oh, the Gruene’s Anthology notes. Right. Did he actually take any of those? He can’t remember. “Uh, yeah, I’m gonna. Not doing it for that Ling guy though. Just you.” Ed rubs his hand over his face. When the hell is his head going to stop pounding?

“Oh, okay. Well, I don’t mind sharing. Ling is actually fun to talk to. Lan Fan is too when you can get her to talk. She doesn’t say much. She’s too busy being overprotective of Ling. It’s really strange. Kind of like Lieutenant Hawkeye is with the Colonel. Oh, is he really not mad at me for knowing about the library? He said he wasn’t, but I didn’t know if he was just saying that or if he really….”

Is Al always this babbly in the morning? Ed tries to stay focused, to follow his words, but right now he just wants to tell him not to talk so damn loud. At least over the phone he doesn’t have to hear all his clanking. He doesn’t think his head could take it. Wait a minute…did he mention Mustang? “Wait, wait, Al, back up. Did you say you talked to Mustang?”

“What? Oh yes, the Colonel. Yeah, he called last night and said you were working late and fell asleep. He said you could use his guest room. That’s very considerate of him, Brother. You did thank him, didn’t you? I know he’s not your favorite person, but he does seem to be trying to help. I’d make sure you were grateful….”

“Guestroom, eh?” Ed looks around the room that is most definitely _not_ a guest room. Why would Mustang put him in his own bed? He jumps at the thought and looks down at the side he’s lying on. It doesn’t look like it was slept on, at least he doesn’t think it does. He’s rumpled it all up now so it’s hard to tell. He looks around the room again and finally notices the folded blanket and pillow on the chair in the corner. Ed squints against the light from the window and sees there’s an ottoman pushed under it. Did Mustang sleep in the chair? Why would he do that in his own house? It’s just weird. “Hey, um, Al, I think I need to let you go. Get back to work and all that. Okay?”

“Wha? Oh! Yeah, that’s okay. I’ll just get back to working here. Have fun, Brother, and be nice to the Colonel!”

“Yeah, right. Okay. Talk to you later.” Ed hangs up the phone and surveys the room again. If his damn head wasn’t killing him so much he might snoop around, but that’s not happening right now. He squints again and rubs his temples with the palms of his hands. He feels queasy and dehydrated and like he just went five rounds with Scar. He’s tempted to just pull the covers back over his head, but he won’t. This isn’t his bed and considering he still doesn’t know why Mustang let him stay here he really doesn’t need to overstay his welcome.

Ed opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, then swings his legs off the bed. He sees his boots neatly placed against the end of the bed and he reaches for one. He only makes it halfway down before the pounding in his head and the rolling of his stomach make him stop. He’ll just get those shoes later. Or maybe Mustang can throw them at him when he ends up kicking him out. Ed takes another slow breath then finally pushes off the bed and to his feet. For some reason he thought he’d be unsteady but he’s not. He’s just achy in every way imaginable. Honestly he thinks even his hair hurts.

He shuffles his way through the bedroom door into the hall. The railing for the stairway below is directly in front of him and he steps up to it and leans against it. He stares down at the wooden stairs he doesn’t remember coming up and wonders exactly how Mustang got him up here. Would the bastard have carried him? He could’ve just left him on the couch in the library. Did he actually walk up on his own and forget? That thought bothers him even more because if he could do that and not remember…what else happened last night?

Ed shakes his head slowly and tangled hair brushes against each cheek. He straightens up then reaches back to untie the matted mess of his hair. Maybe he should’ve looked to see if Mustang has a comb, but considering the way he wears his hair he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. Ed shakes his blond mop out then tries to work through some of the tangles with his flesh fingers since his automail joints would just snag and pull. He gets it about half combed out and it’s as much as his aching head will allow. He ties it back again then turns to his right to round the end of the railing.

There’s a partially opened door to his right, to the left of Mustang’s bedroom, and he pushes it open a little more to peek inside. The room is littered with boxes, files, and papers covering the bed and part of the floor. Funny, he didn’t think Mustang would be so messy. Apparently even he gets a little sloppy when he’s working, or whatever this is. Ed’s not sure why he wouldn’t do this down in the library though. His eyes run over all the little piles of papers and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was actually some type of organization in all the chaos.

He pulls back and closes the door as much as it was. Then he moves around the banister to the top of the stairs. There’s another open door but this one he can tell is a bathroom. He glances toward the guest bedroom and shrugs. He can understand why Mustang wouldn’t want to move all his research or whatever, but it still doesn’t explain why he put him in his own bed. Ed reaches out for the stair railing then slowly makes his way down the stairs in his socks.

He relaxes a little more once he makes it to the entryway and more familiar surroundings. Mustang’s black coat is on the coat stand which must mean he’s here since he doesn’t seem to go anywhere without the damn thing. It takes another full minute for him to realize the red fabric hanging beside it is actually his own coat. Ed blinks and shakes his head carefully. Things are getting weirder and weirder. He turns away from the coat stand and sees the library door looks to be locked. He considers trying to open it but then thinks better of it when he remembers the shock he got from the cabinet inside. No, he’ll check that out later. Ed makes sure to give the library door a wide berth just in case as he makes his way to the kitchen in back.

The instant he reaches the kitchen he has to stop and shade his eyes. The damn windows that go across the back wall are completely unshaded and the sunlight streaming in is blinding. Fucking bastard. He probably did it on purpose. He blinks behind his hand then scowls when he remembers how all the bedroom window blinds and shades were closed. One was leaking a little sun…but he has a feeling from how the kitchen is they probably aren’t always closed up like that. Ed shrugs off the potential concession to him then makes his way across the kitchen to close the damn shades, but as he reaches for one what he sees stops him in his tracks.

Is Mustang… _dancing?_ In the yard? _Shirtless?_

Ed stares out the back window then rubs his eyes with balled up fists but when he opens them again the vision is still the same. He leans forward over the sink to watch and he can immediately tell it’s not dancing…but it’s close. His movements are smooth and fluid like a dancer’s. Ed wipes at his eyes as they water from the sun but he can’t look away as Mustang lunges forward then swipes his hand through the air with purpose before shifting his weight to his back leg. Ed stares entranced by the movements for minutes until it finally dawns on him that he recognizes some of the moves. That one could be a throw, and that’s clearly a rush deflection. His eyes widen when he realizes nearly every move he makes could be used against an opponent to block, deflect, or send an attacker flying. Is this some type of martial art Teacher never taught them? It’s so…pretty.

Ed pushes his bangs out of his eyes so he can get a closer look. There’s a light sheen on Mustang’s pale skin indicting he must’ve been doing this for a while. Ed stares as the muscles stretch and flex under his skin and when Mustang does another move that causes him to turn more toward him he ducks down, afraid he might be seen. Ed hangs his head and snorts at his own stupidity. If Mustang sees him he sees him. If he didn’t want to be seen he shouldn’t be doing it out in the yard. He slowly stands upright then peeks out the window again.

Mustang’s facing him now and the instant Ed’s eyes lock on him his breath catches in surprise. How many years has he worked under this bastard and never see him do anything other than ride a desk? How can he possibly look like _that?_ Ed squints to get a better look and he’s stunned by the chiseled look to his chest that leads down to hard, flat abs. He turns again and Ed gasps at the sight of bright pink scar tissue that wraps around his torso and halfway up his side. Al said he did that himself. How can you possibly do that to yourself and still be conscious? How can you do it at all?

Ed’s fingers curl around the edge of the sink as he stretches further over it to see better. He wets his lips without any conscious thought as his eyes run over the damaged but still very impressive form. Other people might be turned off by those scars, there’s no doubt about that, and Ed wonders if that’s gonna hurt his play with the ladies. If it does, the women are idiots because there is _nothing_ wrong with—

What the fuck is he thinking?

Ed pushes back from the sink as if it burned him and feels his cheeks heat. He staggers backward a few steps and his eyes dart to the window then away. He must still be drunk. That’s it. He’s…hungover. Isn’t that what it’s called? Or maybe he’s coming down with something because there’s no way in the world he…there’s no…. Fuck! He does _not_ find Mustang attractive! He backs up until he runs into the table behind him. This is ridiculous. He’s just…it’s the headache making him feel all weird. Fucking Mustang. Why the hell does he have to be—

“Edward. You’re finally up.”

Ed’s eyes widen impossibly wide and his mouth drops open when Mustang walks through the back kitchen door. He didn’t see him coming! He blinks dumbly when he sees Mustang’s slipped on a white button down shirt but has left it hanging open. He stares transfixed as a single drop of sweat rolls down his chest toward his hard, defined abs….

Ed jumps and smacks into the table behind him again and ends up falling into a chair. He feels trapped and desperate and what the hell is wrong with him? It’s fucking _Mustang!_ Did the alcohol from last night give him brain damage too? He feels things stirring deep inside him that he doesn’t even want to think about. He’d like to bolt again but how the hell would he explain it this time? He glances back over to see Mustang frowning at him and he immediately looks away.

“Edward? Are you alright? You look—”

Ed scrambles to his feet and tries to back away more when Mustang takes a step toward him but he only ends up pushing the chair back along the floor and falling back into it. He scowls and tries to wave Mustang away. “I’m fine. Fucking fine. Just didn’t appreciate getting woken up by all that….” He waves at the window. “Whatever you were doing out there.” Mustang tilts his head and arches an eyebrow at him and Ed knows he’s not making any sense. How can he with him looking like that? He nods toward the exposed scars on his side and snaps hastily, “Shouldn’t you cover that up?”

Mustang stops mid-step toward him and shifts back. His eyes widen slightly at Ed’s words then he nods. “Of course. You’re right.”

He quickly buttons up his shirt without looking at him and Ed’s face heats again but this time in shame. He didn’t mean it. Hell, with all the scars he’s got how could Mustang think he was repulsed by him? But he couldn’t think straight with him all…like that. He fidgets in the chair and picks at some crusty substance on his thigh that he doesn’t want to know where it came from. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean….”

“Don’t worry about it, Fullmetal.” Ed winces at the brusqueness to his tone but what can he do? He can’t exactly tell him the _real_ reason he spazzed. Mustang would have him committed. “I’m sure you’re hungry, right? Probably still queasy too.” Mustang walks over to the fridge and Ed stares warily. Why’s he still being nice? He watches as Mustang pulls things out and the next thing he knows he’s staring at a glass of orange juice in one of those glasses from over the sink.

“I thought these were only for decoration?” Ed carefully picks up the glass and checks it for any type of sabotage before downing about half the juice.

“You made it very clear how silly it was to keep things and not use them.” Mustang leans down to dig through a cabinet and comes up with a frying pan. “I thought it over and decided I agree.”

Ed stares at his back when he turns toward the stove and something about his voice sounds off. He can’t place it, but he swears there’s more going on here, not that he has any clue what. He drinks down the rest of the juice then reaches for the pitcher Mustang set on the table to refill his glass. He takes another sip then looks at the glass again. Why would Mustang be so sentimental over a military academy glass? He looks up over the sink and sees the other glasses are still there. Why would he bother giving him this one anyway? Why is he so damn strange?

The sudden scent of sizzling bacon in the air makes his stomach roll and all thoughts of glasses evaporate from his mind. The very thought of bacon is making him nauseous and he wrinkles his nose. Is Mustang being nice only to poison him? He clears his throat then shifts in his chair again. “Hey, um, Mustang, thanks and all but…I think I’d just rather have toast or something.” His uneasy stomach makes itself known again with a grumbling sound and he quickly adds, “Dry toast.”

Mustang looks over his shoulder and Ed swears gives him an amused smile. He scowls back but the bastard doesn’t seem to notice. “And just how many alcoholic binges have you had?”

“It wasn’t a binge!” Ed crosses his arms and glares even harder. “It was…well, it was a mistake and, for your information, only once.” He hates having this conversation with him. Why is he even still here? “Doesn’t matter anyway, I’m not eating the greasy shit.”

Ed sees Mustang reach for and crack eggs into the pan and his stomach does another uncomfortable somersault. The thought of food is making even the juice taste rancid on his tongue. That’s it. Mustang really is trying to punish him by poisoning him and he’s not gonna let that happen. He gags as the smells in the room get stronger and after another few minutes he watches warily as Roy turns off the stove.

“Whether you believe me or not, I’m speaking from experience, Fullmetal.” Mustang picks up the skillet with a hot pad then turns around. “If you want to continue feeling under the weather, eat dry toast.” He walks over to the table and Ed turns his nose up to the greasy pan of bacon and eggs. “But if you want to feel better….” He drops the pan on the table with a thud. “You eat bacon and eggs.”

Ed shakes his head stubbornly and keeps his arms crossed. There’s no way he’s touching that food. His mouth is getting as dry as the desert again and he’d like to reach for his juice but for now he holds firm and glares. “No way in hell.”

Mustang straightens up and gives Ed a hard look. Then he wipes the back of his hand across his brow and sighs. “I’ll tell you what. If you try my way and it doesn’t work I’ll give you full access to my library at any time. I’ll even show you how the lock works.”

Ed peers up at him suspiciously and narrows his eyes. What kind of game is this? Maybe he was going to do that any way. Ed lifts his chin defiantly and ups the challenge. “Show me how to open the cabinet too and it’s a deal.”

Mustang gives him a long stare and starts nodding. “Alright, fine. The cabinet too. But _only_ if you don’t feel better.” He locks his eyes with Ed and Ed can hardly believe he’s going this far. It doesn’t make sense. “Do we have a deal?”

Ed chews his lips then nods reluctantly. What does he have to lose? He may end up puking but it’ll be worth it to see what’s in that cabinet. “Yeah, okay. Gimmie the nasty food.”

Mustang snorts then goes and retrieves two plates and forks. He dishes out much more bacon and eggs than Ed was hoping for and Ed grimaces. Is he going to have to eat all of this? He takes a deep breath then reaches for his juice. He’s eaten worse. He can do this.

Ed starts with a piece of bacon that he just nibbles at. His stomach doesn’t completely revolt so he eats a bit more. He glances over at Mustang when he reaches for his second piece and he’s beginning to think that maybe bacon is okay but there’s no way eggs will be. Well, since he has to sit here and eat with the bastard he might as well try and get some answers about the night before. He takes a breath to ask why he brought him here but when he speaks the entirely wrong words come out. “So what was that stuff you were doing anyway?”

Mustang looks at him curiously then takes a bite of his eggs before answering. “It’s called Tai Chi.” He crunches on a piece of bacon then shrugs at him. “Why? I thought you found it annoying and…noisy.”

Ed scowls at being called out on his lie but he ignores it in favor of more information. “Yeah, well, what’s the point? A lot of those were defensive moves but what’s the point in dancing around with them if you aren’t actually sparring with anyone?”

Mustang smiles that stupid patronizing smile of his and Ed stabs at his eggs with his fork as an excuse not to look at him. He hears him chuckle and grips his fork even tighter as he shovels a bite into his mouth. If he doesn’t want to tell him that’s fine. He’s not going to beg.

“It’s actually good for many things, Edward, including balance, meditation, and fluidity of movement. Some also say it’s a good way to connect with and channel your inner energies.” Ed snorts at the fanciful words that sound more like something he’d hear in Lior than from a military colonel. Mustang chuckles again then continues as he reaches for his steaming mug of something. “It’s a good exercise that helps with focus and isn’t too strenuous, not a bad thing when you’ve been injured.”

“Ah, yeah, okay.” He shrugs because besides the potential defensive moves he doesn’t see much reason for it. “They teach that in the Academy or something?” Ed gobbles down more of the eggs then reaches for his juice. His eyes linger on Mustang’s mug and he frowns. “Any reason you didn’t offer me any coffee?”

“Because you don’t need it.” Ed sucks in a breath to refute him but Mustang doesn’t give him a chance. “First of all it’s not coffee. It’s tea. And either way, you’re dehydrated from all the alcohol you ingested last night. Coffee or tea for that matter are diuretics and would only dehydrate you further.” Mustang lifts his cup to take a drink and smirks at him. “It’s simple science, Edward. Oh, and no, they didn’t teach me Tai Chi in the Academy.”

Ed blinks at him while his foggy mind slowly processes all the words. Once he does, he scowls and pops the last piece of bacon in his mouth. “Yeah, well. Fine.” He takes another bite of eggs then blinks when he looks down to find his plate clean. Did he really eat all of it? His head is still killing him but, surprisingly, his stomach is no longer doing cartwheels.

“The juice, on the other hand, will help hydrate you and restore a lot of the nutrients you lost yesterday. So will the protein in the bacon and eggs.” Ed glances over at him and he’s actually surprised Mustang’s not giving him his usual smug look. If anything he looks sincere. However that all changes with his next words. “So, tell me. How are you feeling now?”

Ed scowls again and reaches for the last piece of bacon from the stupid frying pan. “Stomach’s better. But head’s still killin’ me.” He pops the bacon in his mouth and talks around it. “Guess your method wasn’t completely foolproof, was it?”

“Good enough that I’m not showing you how to open my cabinet.” Ed grimaces because he expected as much. Stupid Mustang and his stupid breakfast. “I will show you how the door works though, and I do think I can help with your head.”

Ed looks over at him and stares in surprise. He’s going to show him anyway _and_ help with his head? Who is this guy and what did he do with the bastard Colonel Shit? He watches as he gets up and clears the pan and dishes. Why does Mustang keep doing things like this? At first, he thought he was just manipulating him, which he might still be, but it’s not just that. He actually…seems to be…being genuinely…nice.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.” He finishes the rest of his juice then gets up to help Mustang finish putting things away. He puts the juice pitcher in the fridge then dries the dishes after Mustang washes them. Then he refills his glass with water from the tap, considering he is probably still dehydrated, and follows Mustang down the hall to the library door.

“This really isn’t all that complicated.” Mustang looks over to Ed then motions to the door. “You saw the tiny arrays on the other side. Well, I used alchemy to follow the grain through the wood to these three spots here, here, and here.” Ed nods as he points them all out because he’d gathered that much. It’s the shock and the rest he doesn’t get. “When I lock the door, I activate the array by turning the key.” Roy points to a fine line in the wood grain Ed didn’t notice before that runs down to the lock mechanism. “Once activated the arrays pull charge from the air, basically like static electricity.”

“Yeah, yeah, I read that. So it just collects charge unless you dissipate it then, right?” From what Mustang’s saying the library door’s shock must only be focused on the doorknob. He reaches out and lightly touches the wood of the door and sighs in relief when nothing happens.

“Exactly.” Mustang shrugs slightly as his fingers find the three spots and he inserts the key in the lock. “This one is just a deterrent, more to shock and discourage than a true barrier.”

Ed hears the lock click open and he nods. People who don’t understand alchemy would have no idea how far the “protection” went. And for those who do, chances are they’ d be as surprised as he was and extrapolating things as far worse than what it really is. It’s a good system, but it doesn’t explain the one on the cabinet at all. That one shocked him, _hard,_ and he only touched the door, not the latch.

“Okay, so I get how that works, but what about the cabinet? That’s obviously different?” Mustang smiles as he heads over to his desk and Ed doesn’t like the look of it.

“That’s a story for another time, Edward.” Ed fists his hands at the rebuff but Mustang’s already given him more than he expected. “Now why don’t you go sit down on the couch and I’ll see if I can help your head.”

Ed tilts his head curiously when Mustang rummages through one of his desk drawers, but in the end he just decides to go along. His head still feels like it’s going to split in two and right now he doesn’t care what he’s doing. Maybe he keeps better medicine in there. He carries his glass of water over to the couch and drops down onto it. He takes a drink then sets it on the side table as Mustang comes over. He’s pulling on a white glove and Ed doesn’t see how that makes much sense.

“What are you gonna do? Flame my headache away? No thanks.” He starts to get up but Mustang puts a hand on his arm.

“Relax, Edward. I haven’t done anything to hurt you yet, have I?” Ed looks at him suspiciously but there’s no malice or even smugness on his face. If anything he looks…nice. Ed shrugs then leans back on the couch again. “Now I haven’t had a lot of luck with this so far so bear wi—”

“You’re trying something weird on me?” Ed ducks away from the gloved hand that nearly touches his head and grabs it with both of his own. He pulls it down to look at the array that’s not quite an array on the back of his hand. “I’m not your lab rat! What is this?” Ed squints at the unfamiliar markings. What is Mustang trying to do to him?

“It’s alkahestry.” Roy frowns and tugs his hand away. “And I’m not trying to do anything ‘weird’ to you. The research I read indicates that you may not be able to perform this on yourself which may explain my difficulties.” He straightens the glove on his hand then gives Ed an exasperated look. “Do you want me to see if I can help your headache or not?”

Ed scowls back at him and he’d like to say no. He’d like to say he doesn’t need anything from him, but the throbbing in his skull is pounding out a different story. Finally he sighs and gives in, nodding slowly. “Fine. Just don’t turn me into a chimera or anything.”

Mustang makes a sound Ed swears is something like a snort which seems really out of place for him. He’d like to focus on it and the weirdness that is Mustang more but now that he’s thinking about it his headache seems to have gotten worse. Mustang reaches up with the glove again and this time Ed closes his eyes and sighs softly. He just hopes Mustang knows what the hell he’s doing because if he ends up as some kind of alchemic mutant Al will never forgive him.

The coarse texture of what very well may be an ignition glove touches his temple and nothing happens. He frowns and waits as the grandfather clock on the other side of the room ticks out each and every awkward second. He can hear Mustang’s breathing, feel the heat of him so close, and he takes a breath to tell him to stop petting the side of his head…but then something happens.

It starts with a warmth emanating from Mustang’s fingers but soon enough the warmth seeps into his skin and spreads through his head. It’s strange, but not a bad feeling. It moves over him, no through him, like water running over sand and he makes sure to stay completely still. He has no idea what this is doing to him and the ignorance makes him uneasy. He parts his lips to tell him to stop when the soothing warmth melts away the cobwebs in his mind. The rhythmic drumbeat in his head fades to nonexistence and he’s struck by the enormity of the change. It’s only then he notices the rest of the effect this alkahestry is having on him.

His body feels warm and comfortable like he’s floating in a sea of contentment and his mind wanders. It follows the pleasant sensations that wind their way through him and seep into every shadow in his body. It feels good, like sunlight on bare skin, and he sees it, pale and glistening. Muscles move with perfectly toned fluidity, seamlessly gliding into one move after the next and Ed feels like he’s part of every form. Skin, so soft and firm to the touch, he can’t draw his eyes away from the flawed perfection in the morning sun. It sends heat to parts of his body much further south than his head just like before but this time it’s more intense and enough to take his breath.

Ed opens his eyes to see dark ones locked on him with the same intense look of concentration he saw when he was outside. His breath catches again and Ed wants to stay in this warmth, wants to connect with that heat and he leans forward into the touch. He feels a hesitation, his or not he can’t say, and he pushes past it following the surge inside him. Just a little further, hot breath against his own, and his lips connect with a firm softness that makes the heat inside him flare to a blinding intensity. His insides twist up in a good way and he leans forward even more when the tender lips pull back, seeking, needing….

“Edward…. What are you….”

Wait.

Lips. Soft. Warm. Mustang’s lips. Holy fuck! WHAT THE HELL?

_HE WAS **KISSING** MUSTANG_?!!!

Ed jerks back and scrambles across the couch until he’s pressed up in the corner. His eyes widen and lock on the startled look on Mustang’s face. That really happened. It wasn’t in his imagination. His mind is clear. Too fucking clear, and he remembers it all with perfect clarity: the warmth of his lips, the sound of Mustang’s gasp, the way his own heartbeat raced like he was running for his life. 

Which is exactly what he needs to be doing now.

He turns, rolling off the couch but he doesn’t do more than get a foot on the floor when a gloved hand catches his wrist. He freaks out instantly and his voice comes out so shrill it surprises him as much as it obviously does Mustang. “Don’t touch me!” Mustang jerks his hand back, his dark eyes widening more than Ed’s ever seen them and Ed staggers a step away from him.

“Edward, I’m sorry. I didn’t…. I was just trying to help. I was just….” He tugs at his glove, pulling it off seemingly as fast as he can. Mustang feels guilty, but it’s not his fault. Deep inside Ed knows it even if he can’t admit it.

“My head…it’s-it’s better,” he stammers as he moves back toward the door. He can read Mustang’s face. He can see the guilt worm its way into every feature but he can’t deal with that now. Right now he’ll need to come up with a reason to tell Al why he’ll end up walking home with no shoes. He’ll make it up to Mustang later, but right now he needs to _go_.

He turns without another word and bolts for the hallway. He snatches his red coat off the stand and hears it crash to the floor as he runs out the door. Maybe he can get some shoes on the way home. He doesn’t care. He just can’t be close to Mustang while he’s still remembering how he looked—

No. No more thinking.

Just _run_.


	6. Chapter 6

This time he didn’t go after Ed.

How could he? Not after what he let happen, though he’s still not completely clear what exactly happened. All he intended to do was try and ease Ed’s hangover and the next thing he knew Ed’s warm lips were pressed against his own. His only saving grace was that Ed pulled away before Roy did anything more inappropriate. Unfortunately the damage was already done. Ed didn’t even bother to take his shoes….

“Sir?”

Roy physically jumps at the sound of Hawkeye’s voice and in the next instant he’s trying to compose himself behind his desk as if nothing were awry. If she only knew…. No, if she knew she’d probably take him out behind the main part of Central Command, shoot him in an inappropriate location, and dump his worthless corpse in the adjacent moat. This is definitely _not_ something he needs to share, accident or not. He makes sure to school his features then looks up at his subordinate standing at his side. “Yes, Lieutenant? Did you need something?”

She gives him a knowing look that makes his insides twist into knots then leans closer with her hands clasped behind her back. “I can’t help but notice you’ve been rather distracted today, Colonel.”

Roy’s mouth goes dry and he gives an acknowledging nod as he looks straight ahead instead of into her all too observant eyes. “Is that so?” He’s been using his public desk lately instead of his private office to give the appearance all is normal and right now he focuses on watching Falman meticulously straighten his desk before returning to his typing. If there’s anyone who’s more of a neat freak than him it’s Falman. Apparently he’s still catching up on reports from his extended “sick leave.” Roy clears his throat slightly and adds, “I wasn’t aware I was giving that impression.”

“Yes, sir, you were.” Roy nods again and listens to the unmistakable clack-clack of Falman’s typewriter which is much more pleasing to the ear than this conversation. “But it’s completely understandable.”

He blinks and attempts to keep a straight face. She can’t possibly think that. He’s much too old to even be considering—

“I think you should go see him. I’m certain he would like that.”

“You what?” Roy whips his head around to find a soft and sympathetic look on Hawkeye’s face. How? How can she look at him that way after what he’s done? Sure it was all a mistake and he was using a science he only partially understands, but it’s still no excuse. He sees puzzlement creep into her expression and it finally occurs to him she may be talking about something else altogether. “I mean…who?”

“Havoc.” She frowns and inches a little closer as she lowers her voice to an urgent whisper. “Colonel? Are you alright?” She unclasps her hands and tilts her head with concern. “Maybe you should have stayed in the hospital a little lon—”

“Colonel Mustang!” Roy looks back over the front of his desk and breathes a sigh of relief at the welcome distraction of Kain hurrying back into the office. He rushes up to the desk and after a direct look from Roy reaches up to adjust his glasses with his left hand, the opposite one he’d normally use. It’s his silent cue indicating he is who he appears to be. They’re all using these signals now after learning about Envy’s apparent shape shifting ways.

“Yes, Sergeant? Is something wrong?” Roy can tell by his flushed cheeks that whatever the news is it’s important. Did Ed go out and do something completely irrational? The broad grin breaking out across Kain’s face suggests otherwise. Whatever it is he seems to think it’s good.

“No, no, sir, nothing’s wrong.” He pauses to catch his breath then beams at Roy again. “It’s Havoc. Breda says he’s awake!”

In the space of an instant the entire office goes silent with the exception of a single extra keystroke from Falman’s typewriter. It’s as if they’re all frozen in time on the off chance Kain may say something to take the news back. But he doesn’t and that changes everything. In the next moment, everyone’s talking at once and he doesn’t bother to stop them. This is the news they’ve been waiting on for far too long.

Wasn’t it only a week ago the doctors were telling him Havoc shouldn’t wake up at all? He looked into things himself and there was a high probability that the hypovolemic shock could’ve cut off oxygen to his brain and caused damaged. There’s still a chance things might not be right, but that’s a worry for another time. For now all that matters is he’s out of the coma. Havoc’s awake and that’s the first step in the right direction.

Roy put his hands on his desk then pushes out of his chair. Hawkeye shoots him a look but he ignores it as he walks over to the corner to get his black coat from the coatrack. He folds it over his arm and isn’t surprised at the questioning and concerned look he faces when he turns around.

“Sir?”

“You were right, Lieutenant. It has been a long day.” He walks over to his desk to retrieve a few papers containing notes he wants to cross reference at home then drapes his coat over his shoulders. It should still be too hot outside to slip it on, but wearing it this way makes a certain imposing impression and should hide any hints of his remaining injuries. “I believe I’m going to take your advice and pay a visit to our second lieutenant.”

“I—yes, sir. That’s a good idea but—”

He can tell Hawkeye would like to interrogate him further about their earlier conversation but thankfully the others in the office aren’t going to give her a chance.

“Colonel, would you please tell him we’re all thinking about him? I’ve nearly caught up on all of mine and his reports.”

“Yes, sir, could you let him know I’ll come by to see him later tonight? I’m almost finished with the communication logs and I’ll be right over.”

Roy smiles at the exuberance coming from everyone and the way the ever present pall over the office is instantly lifted. He knows how they feel. Yesterday he even caught himself missing the pungent odor of Havoc’s usual afternoon cigarettes which is something he never expected. He nods to each of them in turn then pauses by Hawkeye on his way out the door. “Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant. I’ll be sure to get plenty of rest after my visit.”

She nods, as he expected she would, but she knows him much too well to be completely fooled by his act. Hopefully his allusion to his health will be enough to satisfy her from looking into things more. The pleasant distraction of Havoc’s recovery should also keep her distracted, at least he hopes that’s the case. All he needs now is to have to answer questions as to why Ed practically ran screaming from his house.

Roy forces a smile to his lips as he strolls past his subordinates’ desks and out of the office. As long as he keeps up appearances he should be fine…unless Ed decides to expose him. As it is, he’s been expecting a menacing visit from a certain seven foot tall suit of armor all day. But when lunch passed without Alphonse’s appearance he began to hope that maybe Ed kept things to himself for once, though he’s not holding his breath on that one. Chances are his younger brother is just waiting for a better opportunity to confront him…alone.

He sighs at the disturbing possibilities that swirl through his mind at the thought and makes his way through the halls of the building quickly. He’ll need to track Ed down at some point, but he still doesn’t feel right chasing after him. He just hopes he hasn’t driven him to drink again because who will be there to carry him back home if he has? Roy shakes his head and takes the stairs over the elevator to avoid any chance of conversation. He’s in no mood for small talk. 

He makes it half a flight down when a young secretary with her arms full of reports runs head long into him on the second floor landing. Roy manages to keep his footing but the petite redhead ends up falling onto her backside and all the papers she was carrying end up floating down around her like oversized snowflakes. A look of horror spreads across her face and Roy isn’t sure if it’s from the undignified position she landed in, the fact that he’s the one she ran into, or that the documents she was carrying are scattered all over the floor. Considering the first thing she does is try to pull down her skirt and fix her hair he’s suspects it might be a mixture of the first two.

He takes a closer look as she brushes her hair out of her eyes and he’s certain he recognizes her from the Lieutenant General’s office on the top floor. Considering he heads this entire installation, chances are there could be valuable information in these documents. If he’s careful, maybe he can catch a glimpse of something useful. Roy kneels down to help the young woman gather up the paper and “accidentally” scatters a large pile of them further across the floor. The woman makes a sound of distress and he quickly works to distract her.

“I’m so sorry, Miss…Evelyn, isn’t it?” Her blue eyes widen and he’s certain he got her name right. He does his best to remember every name he can for this very reason, people tend to trust you more when you do. He shoots her his best winning smile as he gathers up the least mundane looking report and as expected her cheeks blush red from the attention. “You’re working on the top floor with General Armato, aren’t you?”

Evelyn flushes again and nearly drops the papers she’s already gathered up. “Yes, yes I am. I’m-I’m so sorry, sir, Colonel, I mean, Mustang. Colonel Mustang. I wasn’t watching—”

Her words cut off with a gasp when he reaches out and touches her forearm. He gives her a warm, reassuring smile which causes her eyes to initially widen even more. “It’s quite alright. I was in a hurry myself. Please, let me help you with these.” He looks her over briefly, enough to show interest without seeming inappropriate, and she returns his smile shyly.

“Thank you. Thank you, sir. You’re much too kind.” She dips her head forward slightly, her attention entirely on him now and he takes advantage of it as he gathers and sifts through the documents. He doesn’t have time to read much but he can see much of the paperwork is day to day bureaucratic nonsense. He gathers these pages quickly then shoves them into her hands when she leans for another folder. The unruly pile distracts her enough for him to snatch up the only thing that doesn’t look routine. 

Roy only has a moment to glance at the report but it’s more than enough. Years of pushing papers has taught him how to glean the important bits from meaningless babble. He shuffles the pages so he can see the meat of the report and the words “local compendium” catch his eye. They’re underlined twice with thick strokes and are followed by a list of names he barely gets a peek at. Unfortunately Evelyn has gathered up all the rest of the documents and is reaching for the ones in Roy’s hands. 

He needs a better look but he can’t be too obvious. Chances are the young woman will mention his name later and he doesn’t need her remembering he was lingering over this report. He smiles at her again as he moves to stand and reaches out with the report. He clumsily drops it to the floor again with a skilled flip of the wrist and gives her a sly smile. 

“My apologies, Miss Evelyn. Women with beautiful eyes tend to make me a little out of sorts.” She gasps softly and nearly drops the rest of her papers again. Roy winks at her in an effort to further unnerve her and reaches down for the folder that’s spilled its contents again. “Here, let me get that for you.”

Roy leans down to collect the report and quickly scans the list of names. He recognizes one as a shop he’s familiar with and quickly memorizes as many of the others as he can. He manages to get about half of them stored away in his memory as he continues to play the game he’s imminently familiar with. “Here you are. Once again I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. I hope I haven’t made you late.”

Roy slides the folder into the midst of the pile in her hands. With any luck she won’t remember which one was the last to drop. She readjusts the slippery pile of folders in her arms again then reaches up to adjust her dark rimmed glasses. “Thank-thank you, sir. These-these things happen.”

“That they do,” he murmurs in a smooth tone. The adoring look she’s giving him leaves no doubt she’ll be relaying this exchange. He only hopes her story will focus on the “smokiness” of his eyes instead of the actual course of events. His mind’s already spinning from the tiny bit of information he’s certain he wasn’t meant to see. It’s not much, but it could indicate Ed’s current course of research is on the right track. He’ll just need to follow up on that list of shops to be sure. 

“Please, have a wonderful day,” he tells her with a smile as he reaches down for the coat that’s fallen off his shoulders. He replaces it with a flourish that has her eyes locked on him and he gives her a knowing nod as he moves to the side and out of her way.

“Oh I will! I will, sir. Thank you!” She clutches the folders to her chest as if they were a priceless gift then quickly hurries past him. He waits until she’s heading up the stairs again before turning to continue down, but he doesn’t miss the quick glances she shoots back his way. She’s definitely interested in his attention. He’ll need to keep that in mind. Perhaps he can have another run in with Miss Evelyn in the future. 

Roy quickly makes his way down the remaining two flights of stairs then he’s out the door and into the warm, bright day. He takes the front door, instead of the back, because he won’t be taking his car to the hospital. It’s within easy walking distance through the South Central Park and it’s much easier to walk than to find a parking spot. He heads down the marble stairs and into the welcome green of the park, a rarity in this part of Central. He may not be stationed in the main part of Command yet, but the South Gate Command Center is really the next best thing. Hughes would’ve been thrilled with his reassignment. It’s the closest exterior command center to the Investigations Building and Roy knows that would’ve been the perfect excuse for Hughes to pester him every chance he had.

His features harden as he glances toward the building Hughes worked in for years and he barely keeps his teeth from grinding together. He doesn’t like to show outward weakness regardless of the turmoil inside. His steps falter and before he knows it he’s standing before the imposing building with tall marble columns. How many times would they have met out here, taking advantage of the simple convenience? He never would’ve been able to get Hughes out of his hair and his chest aches at the missed opportunities. Hughes would’ve driven him crazy, but right now he’d give about anything to have a picture of his cherub cheeked “little angel” shoved in his face right now. Roy shakes his head once then tucks his hands into his pockets as he turns and continues along the cobbled path.

He never admitted it to Hughes, but some part of him was looking forward to the special insanity that being in the same town with him would bring. He has no doubt Hughes knew anyway. He always was better at reading him than anyone else nowadays. Roy was even looking forward to chance to spend some time with his family, though that’s never been something he’s done much of. But after spending so much time in the drab backwaters of Eastern Command he wanted to see that normalcy, preferably in a green and thriving place like this. He wanted a glimpse of the people he was fighting for and Maes’ family was always a shining example of that. 

But not anymore.

The heat of the day suddenly bears down on him and he pulls his coat from his shoulders and folds it over his right arm. Actually, it’s not that hot, but he pretends all the same to distract himself from thoughts he doesn’t have time to face. Instead he focuses on the lushness of the trees and the rich green grass that’s always impeccably manicured all the way up to the path. He missed things like this in Eastern Command which was so much more barren than the areas surrounding it, almost as if the city itself sucked up all the life and fed it to the machine of the Amestrian Military. He’s glad to see in Central, at least, there’s still a little life to be seen. 

Roy comes to a fork in the path and with no hesitation he chooses the one to the right which takes him toward the pond and underneath a dense canopy of trees. It’s the long way to the hospital, but he prefers the more scenic route. As he emerges from the shadows of the trees, he hears a slew of animal calls and glances toward the small lake. There’s a clearing surrounding it and some children are taking advantage of the lack of trees to fly kites. He watches one swoop through the air but then stops short when a bright red ball bounces into his path.

He stops the ball with his foot then looks around for the source of the rolling object. He spots a little girl with curly brown locks looking at him with wide green eyes a few feet away. She can’t be more than three or four and he squats down to pick up the ball. He stays on her level as he holds it out with a smile that’s more genuine than any most people see. He doesn’t have much experience with children, but Elysia never liked it when he gave her a look that was less than genuine. Maybe children really are more perceptive than adults. 

The little girl doesn’t move and neither does he. He has a feeling he’d probably scare her away if he did. She bites her lip when he slowly shakes the ball then suddenly runs toward him and snatches it from his hand. She pauses only long enough to give him a huge smile then toddles off toward a young man who’s quickly coming her direction. He looks like he’s an off duty soldier and Roy moves to his feet and gives him a nod. The little girl, obviously happy to be rescued by her dad, wraps her free arm around his leg as she clutches the ball to her chest with the other and Roy can’t help but smile.

“Eloise, you need to be more careful with your ball. You can’t just go running off.” The young man smiles as he brushes his hand over her curls then glances at Roy. He turns his attention back to the little girl and prods her gently. “Did you even say thank you to the Colonel for stopping your ball?”

She shakes her head side to side then shyly looks over her shoulder at Roy. She chews her lip for a moment then calls out a quick “thank you” before burying her face against her father’s leg. Roy chuckles softly as the soldier reaches down for her hand then gives him a respectful nod in return. Then he leads the little girl back to a blanket under the shade of a large oak tree where a young woman is setting out food for lunch. Roy watches the small family joyfully reassemble as the little girl crawls into her mother’s lap, ball forgotten on the grass beside her, and then turns to continue on his way. 

It’s a nice afternoon and he’s not surprised to see other families enjoying the warmth of the day by the pond. He spots a father and son at the water’s edge and he smiles softly as they scatter breadcrumbs to the waterfowl gathered on the deep blue surface. The boy’s laughter rings out when one of the birds quacks loudly as it scrambles to pluck more bread from the water than his fellow ducks. A small flapping fracas ensues until the father shows his son how to scatter the bread pieces so all of the birds get a shot. The birds settle down and Roy pauses to watch, for the moment transfixed by the scene.

His parents took him to a pond like this when he was probably not much older than the little girl with the ball. He may have been young, but he still remembers it vividly. It was always a special outing to get to go to the duck pond and he was always equally fascinated by feeding the birds and the very large and definitely over fed fish. He doesn’t think about those times often and even now it almost feels like another lifetime. His ambitions have run away with his day to day life and probably his future as well. But if it means more children can have a safer world to feed ducks in then it’s more than worth it.

The breadcrumbs have apparently run out and the ducks move on to another group across the pond who are more than happy to feed them. The water ripples from fish cleaning up the scraps the ducks left behind and the boy tugs on his father’s hand imploring him with a bright voice for a cold treat. The father’s token protest barely lasts a minute and they walk over to the nearby ice cream vendor while the boy babbles on about the birds. Roy smiles and starts walking again. He’s wasted enough time sightseeing.

He follows the path past the small lake and soon passes back under the canopy of trees. It takes him back to the main cobblestone walkway through the park and he spots a phone box to his left that’s now devoid of crime tape. The smile slips from his face and he continues on past it with no other outward reaction. The site affects him less than people might think. He doesn’t pay much attention to the place where Hughes died. It’s just a location, but that doesn’t mean it’s still not a reminder. Instead he chooses to remember his life and right now he’d give his transfer and many more just to be hounded with one more sickeningly sweet story about how adorable Elysia and her mother are.

“I really could use you right now, Hughes,” he murmurs softly under his breath as he quickens his stride. Even now he feels off balance without Maes’ constant counterpoint. He’d probably deck him if he told him what happened with Edward, but then, once he helped him up and dusted him off, he’d help him figure out what happened and how to handle it. Hughes was a big picture man, and with all the insanity with monsters and corrupt officials going on Roy knows he’d have a better view of it than he does. It’s probably what got him killed. He spent weeks trying to figure out what Hughes wanted to tell him in that last phone call and he still knows he’s missing something.

Roy drapes his coat back over his shoulders and forces himself to get back into a business state of mind. The distraction of the park was nice, but now he has things that need his attention. He catches a glimpse of the Central Military Hospital through the treetops and he can’t help but smile slightly. It really is a short walk from the Investigations Building and he has no doubt this is the path Hughes took when Ed was in the hospital. He didn’t even have to ask Hughes to look in on Ed once he heard he’d been injured. He knew he’d get full updates, along with Maes’ usual pestering about his lack of a love life. What he didn’t realize was that Hughes would take it upon himself to pester Ed just as much. He smiles a bit more at the thought of Ed completely at Hughes’ mercy. If only he had him now to sort things out for him once more.

Roy pushes that thought out of his head and makes his way up the inclined path to the hospital. Shade from the trees make the walk a little more bearable but he’s still feeling the exertion in his left side. He started back up with his Tai Chi yesterday in an effort to keep the scarring from tightening up his skin and muscles, but he can still feel the pull when he stretches too much. Hopefully if he stays active enough it won’t be too bad once it heals. Soon enough he makes it to the hospital’s outer stairs and he takes them two at a time. Now that he’s close he’s anxious to see how Havoc is and he breezes his way inside as quickly as he can without drawing attention.

He’s only been to Havoc’s room once since he was released from intensive care. He’s been intending to come by more, but after seeing him so pale and nearly lifeless he couldn’t bring himself to return. All he could think as he looked at his motionless form was how it was his responsibility and the inability to do anything made him feel more helpless than he’s felt in a long time. If only Breda could’ve found Marcoh. Then, maybe, he could’ve done something. Roy walks up to the nurses’ station and quickly signs in. Rank does have its privileges and that’s all he needs to do before he’s walking down the antiseptic smelling hallway to Havoc’s room.

Once he reaches the door he stops before going inside. He doesn’t know what he’ll find on the other side and he needs a moment to compose himself. He reaches up to wipe his forehead, that’s slightly damp from the summer heat, then takes a moment to catch his breath from the brisk walk over. He’s stalling, and he knows it, but after this there’s no more pretending. Havoc’s either alright or he isn’t and unless they somehow run across Marcoh or another stone, nothing’s going to change. Roy takes one more deep breath then reaches for the door and pushes it open.

“Colonel.” Breda immediately begins to stand the instant Roy enters the room and he puts up his hand to stop him. There’s no point in holding to formalities here. Breda pauses then shoots Roy a direct look as he sits back down in his chair between the window and Havoc’s bedside. Roy responds by toying with the cuff of his plain white glove and Breda visibly relaxes. The idea of a shape shifting monster has had them all on edge. Roy casts a glance to the bed to see Havoc’s eyes are closed then turns his attention back to Breda.

“How is he?” he asks in a voice that’s hardly over a whisper. He’s not sure of the situation and he doesn’t want to wake Jean if he needs his rest.

“He’s in and out right now.” Breda speaks in a slightly louder voice than he did and Roy relaxes a bit at the easiness in his tone. Breda glances to the bed and the corner of his mouth turns up. “Apparently the docs have him on some good stuff right now because even when he’s awake he’s not all there.”

Breda’s smile tells him even more than his words and Roy breathes a soft sigh of relief. These two have been friends since the Academy and if there was something amiss with Havoc’s mind other than a drug induced haze he’s certain Breda would’ve caught it. He’s much too observant not to. But that doesn’t explain _why_ he’s so heavily medicated. Roy frowns and takes a step closer as a soft snore slips from Havoc’s lips.

“Is he in pain?” Roy knows exactly what he had to do to him and he knows it’s not comfortable, but when he burned them he did it in a way that didn’t char their skin. It’s why his own skin isn’t blackened beyond recognition. He sealed the wounds on a nearly molecular level with alchemy. It still hurts, but not near as much as if he’d used a traditional flame. That in itself would’ve probably killed them both if he’d tried it.

“It’s his spine,” Breda says softly then looks up at Roy again. “The docs say he has a contusion in his spinal cord but they can’t tell much else right now with all the swelling. They said until that goes down they won’t know if he needs another surgery.” Breda gives him a pained look then adds, “Right now the swelling is apparently pressing on a nerve and—”

“And they didn’ wanna hear me screamin’ bloody murder anymore so they doped me up real good.” Roy’s eyes widen when he hears Havoc’s sleep roughened voice. He thought he was asleep! He looks down to see him blinking his eyes open and the instant they do they lock on Roy. “Oh, hey, Colonel. Come to see your handiwork?”

“Jean!” Breda hisses at him and shoots him a hard look. “The Colonel didn’t—”

“Ya heard those pretty nurses,” Havoc’s speech is slow and slightly slurred from the medication but they still cut Roy deeper than he’ll ever admit to. “Said he burned me up real good.” Havoc tilts his head back against the pillows to look up at Roy with unfocused eyes. “Didn’t’ know I’s such strong competition. Don’ worry though. I’ll get lotsa sympathy when I tell ‘em how you deal with compete—”

“Havoc, stop it! If it weren’t for the Colonel, you wouldn’t even be alive!”

“Ya think I dun know that?” Havoc snaps back and scowls.

“It’s alright, Breda,” Roy says as he pulls his coat from his shoulders and folds it over his arm. He steps forward to take the chair on Havoc’s other side and forces a slight smile to his lips. “If I can deal with Fullmetal’s insubordination all these years, I can deal with this.”

“Ya see? He can deal….” Havoc turns his head away from Breda, rolling it across the pillows to look at Roy again. “I do know.” He says, still with a slur to his words, but Roy doesn’t miss the sudden sharpness in his eyes. Roy sits up straight when he realizes Havoc’s more lucid than he first thought. Havoc’s eyes bore into him and Roy nods slowly as he understands what he’s not saying. Havoc knows he didn’t have a choice, even if he doesn’t like the consequences, but he understands and that’s enough.

“What can I say?” He holds Havoc’s gaze and hopes he can see how sorry he is even if he obviously doesn’t want to hear it. That’s probably why he immediately went on the offensive and he understands even if he doesn’t like it. “I have to take every advantage I can. I’m sure you understand.”

There’s a glimmer of something in Havoc’s eyes Roy swears is gratitude but it’s gone in the same instant as the haze of drugs claim him again. “Yeah, yeah, so hard to t’be a Colon’l.”

Havoc turns his head back toward Breda who’s gone completely quiet, though by the look on his face he hasn’t missed the silent communication. Good. He didn’t imagine it. Roy’s never been one for wishful thinking, but in a case like this it would be all too easy.

“So, ya tell him ‘bout how that bitch turned me in’ta a vegetable?”

“What?!” Roy sits bolt upright in the chair and has to stop himself from jumping to his feet. Is he serious? His mind spins as he tries to remember if Havoc’s moved anything but his head since he first walked in. Is he completely paralyzed? “I didn’t hear anything about—”

“Havoc, that’s not what the doctors said and you know it.” Breda’s frowning at him, but Roy doesn’t miss the concern in his eyes. He looks over to Roy and takes a breath before he speaks. “They said with all the swelling in his spine there’s no way to tell what’s permanent and what’s not. According to one of the docs they said it could takes weeks or even mon—”

“You aren’t the one tha’ can’t feel his legs so don’t tell me….” Havoc’s words drift off when Breda looks at him again and he sighs. “Yeah, okay, can’t feel my face either so…maybe you got a point.” He lifts his right hand to pat the side of his face then grins lopsidedly. “This is some good shit, Heymans, need t’getcha some.”

Breda shakes his head and smiles back at him. “And you need to stop being an ass.”

There’s a true camaraderie between these two and Roy can’t help but be reminded of him and Maes. He has no doubt if they’d ever been in a situation like this…. He cuts off that train of thought because this isn’t about him. It’s about Havoc. He’s been so concerned about him waking from the coma he didn’t give any thought to the spinal damage he must’ve received when the homunculus ran him through. He just assumed if he woke up that everything would be alright. One way or another it will be. He’ll make sure of it.

“I have some messages for you, if you’re up to hearing them.” Havoc looks back at him and tilts his head curiously.

“Yeah? Some of ya lady friends decide blond is better?” Roy smiles because it’s more than clear now what he’s doing. Yes, he’s loopy from the medication, but not as much as he’s letting on. He’s not ready to be serious and Roy can’t blame him. Being serious means accepting the possibility that his paralysis isn’t temporary and there’s no reason to do that yet. If the doctors still have hope, so should Havoc. And if and when they don’t…Roy will find a way to deal with it. He won’t leave him behind.

“Hardly. They were too busy being distracted by my smoky, bedroom eyes.” Breda’s mouth drops open at his words but Havoc grins. It’s not the first time he’s been so informal, but it is probably the first time when a few beers weren’t involved.

“More like afraid of being smoked by your…gloves or….” Havoc frowns as he gets lost in his own words but then his eyes widen as he props himself up on his left arm. “Hey! You know they won’t let me smoke in here?!” He scowls deeply then looks up at Roy with unabashed hope in his eyes. “Breda couldn’t change their minds, but surely you could. Right, Colonel? You know…since ya owe me and all?”

Roy chuckles at his manipulation attempt and nods. “I’ll see what I can do. We can’t have you detoxing on your drug of choice.” Havoc nods eagerly while Breda just shakes his head.

“You realize those things will kill you, right?” There’s a distinctly amused look on Breda’s face and Roy has a feeling he’ll be sneaking in cigarettes for him whether Roy okays it or not.

“Yeah, well, so will women ‘pparently. You sayin’ I outta quit them too?”

“Well, considering your track record lately maybe you should—”

“Hey! Not m’ fault. That’s the Colonel’s fault!” Havoc lies flat on his back again and Roy can see the strain on his face. He’s in more pain than he’s letting on and he should leave soon. It’s obvious Havoc’s trying to put on a brave front, but if he can be a little distraction for him he wants to try. “Go on, Mustang. Tell ‘im. Tell ‘im how you’ve been killin’ my game.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot about the time I expressly ordered you to go out and date a homicidal monster with ‘freaky fingers.’” He deliberately uses Havoc’s description of the homunculus which causes Breda to chuckle and Havoc to scowl. The sight causes Roy to smile because the pouting look on his face reminds him too much of a certain blond alchemist. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, when you get out of here I’ll be more than happy to help you with your ‘game.’”

Breda snorts and Havoc makes an annoyed sound, but Roy doesn’t miss the slight upturn of his lips. “Yeeeeeah, you’d prob’ly just try to hoop me up with Armstrong’s sister or some—heeeey wait.” He blinks his eyes, obviously trying to focus as he looks at Roy. “Didn’t ya say you had messages for me?”

“I did, didn’t I?” Roy smiles then rolls his eyes skyward as if he’s trying to remember them. Havoc’s the one who snorts this time and Roy finally relents. “I’m fairly certain you’ll be having some visitors tonight, if you’re up for it of course.” Havoc smiles tiredly and nods. Roy has no doubt from the look Breda’s giving him he won’t let Havoc get too overwhelmed with visitors. He really should be leaving soon so he’s not too worn out by the time they get here. “Aslo, I believe Falman said he’s been covering your paperwork for you.”

Havoc smiles a little broader and closes his eyes. “Leave it to Falman to always be looking out for me,” he laughs weakly and Roy takes the opportunity to stand. There’s no reason for Havoc to be putting on a front for him but he has a feeling he will as long as he’s still here.

“Well I should probably be going. Have all those ladies to tend to, you know.” He drapes his coat back around his shoulders and nods to Breda when he gives him a grateful look. Havoc’s lucky to have such a good friend looking out for him. Hopefully they’ll eventually be able to track down Marcoh and help speed his healing along. He turns for the door but stops when Havoc calls out to him.

“Hey, Chief.” Roy looks back over his shoulder at the familiar title to find Havoc staring at him with tired but clear eyes. He smiles weakly then nods slightly and Roy can tell even that small movement was an effort. “Thanks.”

Roy nods once and Havoc closes his eyes again. His face creases in pain and Roy forces himself not to immediately look away. He knows Havoc wasn’t being serious before, but he was right. This was his fault and somehow he’ll make it right. He turns away with Havoc’s face firmly etched in his memory and quietly leaves the room. At least he’s recovering. It’s a step in the right direction. Now if only he could figure out how to deal with his other troubled subordinate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> As this was written for , we had the pleasure of working with the wonderful who created the above artwork illustrating a moment in this chapter. A big Thank You from both of us for the gorgeous work!! For the full size image please click [here](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/aquerna/16174961/11791/11791_original.jpg)  
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	7. Chapter 7

By the time Roy gets away from the hospital and makes it back to his car, the sun’s starting to set. He’d debated stopping by Ed’s hotel, but considering he still doesn’t know what to say to him he opts for heading home. He just hopes Ed hasn’t gone and done something stupid. The last thing he needs is to be answering questions as to why his youngest subordinate is bar hopping. Roy sighs at the thought and squints against the sun as he turns onto his street.

It’s only a short distance before he’s pulling into the narrow alley between his house and the next, but what he sees when he reaches it nearly causes him to slam the brakes to the floor. All day long he’s been worried about what Ed might be doing. Not one single scenario he envisioned ended with Ed sitting on his front porch swing waiting for him. Roy does slow the car to a crawl to stare just long enough to be sure he’s not imagining things. But no, sure enough, he’s rocking the swing with the tips of what he’d wager are brand new boots.

Roy parks the car at the side of the house and frowns slightly as he climbs out. He’s not used to being surprised. He takes it as a matter of pride that he’s usually several steps ahead of those around him. It’s not often he’s completely taken off guard but in the matter of a week Ed seems to have become a master of keeping him unbalanced. It’s unsettling but somehow appropriate considering Ed’s always been one to play by his own rules.

Roy rounds the corner of the house and takes his time walking up to the porch so he can get a better look at him. Ed’s head is tilted down and some of his hair is untied so it falls forward and hides much of his face. He can’t help but wonder if that’s not accidental. He’s wearing his usual oversized red coat which swallows him up and makes Roy think maybe he is trying to hide in plain sight. There’s a bag by his side he instantly recognizes from the café a couple blocks up the street and that surprises him even more. After everything that happened and after the way he left yesterday, did Ed actually bring him dinner?

He steps up onto the porch, only a few feet away from him, but Ed doesn’t look up. Why does he always have to be so frustrating? He’s the one who came to his house, not the other way around. But instead of acknowledging him like any other guest would do, Ed continues to stare down at his feet and rock the swing slowly. Roy waits. He even counts silently to ten but still Ed only sits there. Finally he can’t take it anymore and clears his throat. “Fullmetal. Would you like to come in?”

Ed lifts his head once he’s directly addressed but his face is still mostly hidden by his long, golden hair. “What?” He almost sounds surprised and were this anyone else Roy might actually be concerned about their mental state. Ed shrugs then snatches the paper bag beside him. “Uh, yeah. Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

Roy actually rolls his eyes at the sarcasm laced words then inwardly berates himself for doing something so childish. How does Ed always bring this out in him? He fishes his keys out of his coat pocket then moves closer to the door to unlock it. He smirks as he does and calls out over his shoulder. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised to find you outside. I’d have assumed you’d just find a way to break in.”

There’s a snort from behind him and a slight crumpling sound from the bag. “Yeah right, and risk getting shocked by one of your booby traps? I don’t think so. I was worried enough about sitting on the damn swing.” Roy gets the key in the lock and turns it as Ed mutters behind him. “…crazy, bastard Colonel.”

Roy opens the door and can’t help but smile at Ed’s words. He’s more than enough of an alchemist to be able to discern if the front door was rigged or not. It isn’t, but Ed apparently decided to respect his personal space today. Roy’s been keeping an eye on him for a long time and he knows Ed only conforms to social convention when it suits him. If he’d wanted to throw Roy off guard he’d probably have done it by finding a way into his library and waiting for him there. The fact he didn’t speaks to the possibility that they are making progress.

Ed follows him as he steps inside and Roy lets him close the front door as he slips out of his long, black coat. He motions toward the pair of red soled boots at the base of the coatrack as he hangs up his coat on its usual hook. “Make sure you don’t forget those this time.” Roy unbuttons his blue uniform coat then hangs it beside the black one. When he finally turns around to look at Ed he finds him staring at the floor and rubbing the back of his neck. It’s an unusual pose for Ed and he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, umm, thanks for keeping those but….” He shifts on his feet and Roy has to restrain himself from prodding him to continue. Does he really want to have this discussion here? Is something else amiss? Ed’s other hand clenches around the bag at his side then he blows out a long breath. “My watch. I, umm…I can’t seem to…find it.”

Roy smiles when he realizes Ed doesn’t even remember him picking it up at the bar. His lips curl into a smirk as he moves across the entryway and unbuckles his shoulder holster, easing the gun away from his left side. “Is that so? You realize that can be quite a problem. The military isn’t very keen on replacing something so valuable.” He pulls the leather off his shoulders then checks to make sure the safety is still on the gun. “Do you remember the last time you saw it?”

Ed scowls darkly through his long bangs and shrugs. “I, uhh, I think it was at the bar but when I went back…they said they didn’t have it.” He scuffs the tip of his boot on the floor and fists his hand not holding the bag. “I didn’t know if maybe you might have….” Ed shakes his head quickly and looks like he’s trying to stare a hole into the ground by Roy’s feet. “Forget it. I’ll file the damn paperwork tomorrow.”

Roy continues to smile slightly as he opens the drawer in the hall side table. He puts his gun and holster inside then pulls out a shiny silver chain connected to a certain missing watch. “You could.” He turns around and holds out the watch toward Ed. “Or you could try to be a little more careful next time.”

Ed’s eyes widen and he snatches the watch out of Roy’s gloved hand. He checks it over, probably to see if it’s still alchemically sealed—which it is—then shoves it in his pocket. “Bastard. You could’ve told me you had the damn thing. I’ve been looking all over for it.”

“But then I would’ve missed seeing that look on your face.” Ed’s look turns so dark that he might actually fear for his safety if he didn’t know him better. Under different circumstances Roy would probably push him even further just to get a rise out of him, but he realizes if he pushes him too much right now he might leave and they still have things to discuss. He intentionally softens his tone and adds, “You didn’t exactly give me a chance to tell you before.”

Ed shifts on his feet and looks away. Apparently he’s not ready to talk yet, but that’s alright. They have time and the foyer isn’t exactly the place for this discussion anyway. Roy nods toward the bag clutched in Ed’s right hand. “I see you brought something to eat. Would you like to eat that in the kitchen?”

“Yeah,” is his only response and before Roy can say another word Ed steps around him and makes his way down the hall and to the kitchen. He notes dryly that Ed walks through his house almost like he owns it and he’s not certain how he feels about that. Roy follows after him and suddenly notices that something doesn’t seem quite right. He can’t put his finger on it, but Ed doesn’t seem to be moving with his normal fluidity. Ed’s far from graceful with his automail limbs, but something about the way he’s walking is different. He doubts he’d get a straight answer from him if he asked so he’ll just have to pay closer attention.

Ed flips on the bright kitchen light when he reaches the back of the house then shuffles over to the rectangular kitchen table. He moves around it to the seat he took the last time he was here and drops the bag on the wooden surface. “Brought food for you too, if you want it.” Ed seems to debate his actions then drops down in the chair, his head tilted forward as he looks down again. “Didn’t know what you’d want but…equivalent exchange, you know.”

Roy smiles as what almost looks like embarrassment spreads across Ed’s features. Why would he be ashamed of sharing food? Roy didn’t expect it, but it’s still a nice gesture. He goes to get them drinks, a bottled beer for himself and a glass of water in his Academy glass for Ed. He brings the drinks back and sits down at the end of the table. “Not everything requires equivalent exchange, Edward, but thank you for thinking of me. I rather like that café.” He pushes the glass of water toward Ed. “If you’d like something else to drink you’re more than welcome to it.”

Ed turns his head slightly and eyes Roy’s beer. He shakes his head quickly and reaches inside the bag. “Uh uh. No thanks. Had enough of that crap.” Roy chuckles at the reaction and watches as Ed pulls out two wrapped sandwiches, one twice the size of the other. Ed pushes the smaller sandwich toward him and it’s only when Roy unwraps it that he realizes it’s the one he usually orders, even with the same substitutions.

He blinks in surprise and looks over to Ed as he takes a large bite from his sandwich. “You really do have uncanny instincts. This is one of my favorites.” Ed doesn’t look his direction and Roy smiles. There’s no way he could’ve known he always ordered this toasted sandwich without tomatoes. It looks like it even has extra olives as well. He must’ve asked if they knew him and ordered his regular. That’s a surprisingly considerate thing to do and not something he would’ve expected from Ed. “It’s exactly the way I like it too.”

Ed shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich. He seems to be in no mood to admit his act of kindness and Roy decides to let it go. He’d normally prod him until he broke, but he sees no reason to this time. He can’t expect Ed to try and get along if he doesn’t do the same. “Thank you, Edward,” he tells him as he pulls off his gloves then sets them aside. Another shrug is the only response he gets from Ed.

Roy gets about halfway through his sandwich before Ed finally relaxes a bit. Roy glances over at him as he reaches for his beer and notices his hair has fallen back from his face. He doesn’t usually wear so much of it loose and he can’t help but wonder….

Wait a minute.

Roy leans forward to get a better glimpse of Ed’s left cheek, the one facing away from him, when Ed suddenly realizes what he’s doing. His eyes widen and he turns more away from Roy and shakes his hair forward again, but it’s too late. Roy already saw enough. He puts his sandwich down and narrows his eyes. “Edward, look at me.”

Ed shakes his head stubbornly and shoves the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth. “Wha’s your problem?” he mumbles around a mouthful of bread, meat, and cheese. “Tryin’ to eat here.” Ed attempts to turn away a little more and Roy’s had enough. He stands and quickly moves around him. He reaches out and brushes Ed’s hair away from his cheek before he has a chance to stop him and sure enough there’s a dark bruise forming under his left eye.

“What happened to you?!” Ed bats his hand away and tries to reposition his hair until he realizes it’s too late to matter. Roy stares at him and suddenly the way he was walking into the kitchen makes more sense. Was he favoring his right side? He’s been shifting around in the chair quite a bit and Roy thought he was just uncomfortable being here. But apparently there’s more to it than that and he fumes at his stupidity. “What did you do? Did you get in a bar fight?”

“What? No!” Ed shoves at him which only serves to make Roy angrier. “I told you I had enough of that crap. Do you think I’m that stupid?” Roy arches an eyebrow at him knowingly and Ed crosses his arms and hisses, “Fuck you.”

“Stop avoiding the question, Fullmetal.” Roy takes a step closer so he’s looming over him at his side. “Answer me. What happened to your face?”

“It was nothing!” Ed scowls up at him then pushes his chair back from the table in an effort to no doubt get away from him. He deliberately looks away then grumbles, “I was just sparring, okay? That’s all.”

“That’s not all.” Roy turns to lean back against the table and locks his eyes on his stubborn subordinate. He knows he and his brother practice martial arts but never in all the time he’s known them has Ed had a mark like this. “I hardly think Alphonse would—”

“It wasn’t Al!” Ed winces at his own words and Roy smirks at the giveaway. One thing about their brotherly devotion, it won’t allow misrepresentations of blame.

“I didn’t think it was. And don’t bother telling me you walked into a door.” Ed jerks his head to look away from Roy again but he doesn’t care. He’s not letting this go. If Ed wants back in his library, he’s going to have to be honest. “Someone obviously gave you a beating—”

“Hey! I gave as good as I got!” Ed makes another face when he once again gives away more than he intended at Roy’s ribbing. He takes a deep breath then sighs dramatically. “Fine. Al and I were sparring, but then Ling showed up and wanted to join in. He got a little carried away. That’s all.”

It makes sense. Fighting someone you aren’t used to even for practice is bound to cause accidents. Roy crosses his arms. But something about Ed’s words seem off. It’s more a feeling than anything, but he knows he’s not getting the whole truth. He’s seen Ed fight. He’s too talented to miss an open shot to the face if he was expecting it. Fighting with Ling could explain the other bruises he’s no doubt hiding, but not his face. “Try again. I highly doubt you’d offer your face to the Prince even in practice.”

“Fucking bastard,” Ed grumbles then drops his chin to his chest. His arms are still crossed in a defensive posture and Roy holds his ground. He’s not backing down and finally Ed realizes that as he sighs again. “Fine. Ling and I did spar and he….” Ed narrows his eyes and continues through gritted teeth. “And _I_ got a little carried away. I needed to blow off some damn steam and that idiot made it so easy. I got a good shot in then…Lan Fan took a cheap shot at me.” 

He shouldn’t smile. He really shouldn’t but suddenly it all makes more sense. He has no doubt Ed would've been irritated regardless of who took the cheap shot, but considering the assailant was female it’s no wonder he’s being so dodgy. He should let it go…but he can’t help himself. “Lan Fan. Isn’t _she_ Ling’s personal guard?”

“Shut up, bastard. I’d like to see you take her on. She’s insane!” Ed scowls even more and Roy chuckles until he’s rewarded with a murderous look. Roy shakes his head and finally relents.

“Relax, Edward. If she’s really his personal guard then she’s obviously no one to trifle with.” Ed looks at him skeptically and Roy laughs again but this time not at him. “You don’t see me challenging Hawkeye to shooting competitions, do you?”

Ed tilts his head in thought then finally concedes with a nod. “She’d totally kick your butt.”

“I have no doubt you’re right.” Roy pushes off the table then goes back to his seat at the end so he can finish off his sandwich. He feels Ed’s eyes on him, but doesn’t pay him any mind as he goes back to eating. He’s tormented him enough for now.

“Bet she’s not the only one who could kick your ass.”

Roy looks up as he takes a drink of his beer to find Ed’s scooted back up to the table and now is leaning on his forearms studying him. Roy tilts his head in question but when he doesn’t immediately get a response he asks more directly. “Is there something you’d like to say, Fulmetal?”

“Just saying with as useless as you are in the rain, you should be more prepared to defend yourself.” Ed shrugs then reaches for his glass of water and takes a long drink. Roy doesn’t miss the insult, or the smug look on his face but he doesn’t take the bait, yet.

“I’m far from useless, Edward. Being an alchemist I’d think you might realize that.” He locks his eyes with Ed and wonders where exactly he’s going with this. If he wants to have a pissing contest, he’ll need to find someone else for that. “Besides, I don’t solely rely on my alchemy like some people.” Ed’s expression loses some of its smugness and Roy smiles with satisfaction. “I do carry a firearm as well.”

“I don’t just rely on alchemy either.” Ed leans back in his chair and crosses his arms again. “That’s why Al and I spar. It trains the body as well as the mind.” He snorts and arches an eyebrow at Roy. “I’d like to see you get your hands dirty.” He motions with his thumb over his shoulder toward the backyard. “So all that stuff you were doing out there, do you just play around with it or do you actually know how to use those moves?”

Ed’s trying to be insulting, there’s no doubt about that, but that’s not what makes Roy’s eyebrows rise. Ed’s being very careful to sound mocking the way he usually does, but there’s something different about this conversation. Is Ed actually worried about his safety? Why? He’s never been concerned before. Is it because he saw him in the hospital? He has to know he’s been trained to defend himself, or does he? Roy finishes off his sandwich then washes it down with the rest of his beer before answering. “I can assure you I learned plenty about self-defense in the Academy.”

“But do you _use_ it?” Ed leans forward and presses his hands to the table. “You practice all those moves which is great and all but they won’t do you any good if you don’t _use_ them.” He reaches back to untie his hair then brushes it all back out of his face and ties it again. He seems to be done with trying to hide. “What are you gonna do next time if you aren’t given the chance to cut an array in your hand?”

Ed motions toward his unbandaged right hand and Roy glances down at the fresh pink scar outlining his entire array. He hardly felt like he was given a “chance” to do that. More like he didn’t have a choice. It was find a way to stop the bleeding or die. He cut it into his hand because the array was too fine to draw in blood, not to mention he had to make sure it was perfect. That’s why he cut it so deep. With flame alchemy he couldn’t make a mistake, especially when it meant Havoc’s life….

“Does it still work?”

“What?” Roy lifts his head to see Ed studying the back of his hand the same way he was. He resists the urge to pull it away when he finally processes his question. “You mean the scar?” He looks down at the array etched in flesh and honestly he never gave it a thought. It was bandaged for most of a week then he’d been wearing his gloves even more than usual to hide the healing wounds. He never considered that after it healed it could still work. Scars don’t heal perfectly, so how could it? He shakes his head as he curls his hand into a loose fist, stretching the mostly healed wounds. “I doubt it, but I never gave it any thought.”

“You should.” Ed reaches out and to Roy’s surprise takes his hand and pulls it toward him. He leans forward, squinting as he studies it, and Roy tries to pull his hand back but Ed holds fast. “It’s really close. Just barely distorted. I bet you could use it if you actually tried, just like those tattoos people get.”

Roy blinks at Ed’s observations and once again wonders why he’s so concerned about his well-being. Is it genuine? It seems so, and to be honest he’s probably right. He leans forward as well and watches as Ed traces the circle on the back of his hand that’s surprisingly unbroken. It’s so clear now but he knows he never would’ve tried it without Ed’s suggestion. Now it makes so much more sense to try and keep it hidden as a potential secret weapon. All he’d need is a lighter or a pair of _plain_ ignition gloves….

“You musta had to cut really deep, huh?”

Roy looks up to find Ed much closer than he expects. Ed realizes it at the same time and they both pull back at once. Ed’s hand stays on his for another moment then pulls back just as quickly. Roy has no idea what just happened and he scrambles to find words to break the resulting tension. “Yeah, yes. Yes, I needed to make sure it was accurate so I cut deeper than I probably had to.”

“So you carry a knife too, then.” Ed’s eyes are locked on him like he’s some kind of alchemic experiment and he doesn’t understand it at all. He shifts under his scrutiny before he even realizes he’s doing it.

“No, actually, I used one Jean carries.” Roy shakes his head and sits back in his chair. Where is Ed going with all of this? Does it matter what he used to cut his hand? He frowns slightly and reaches for his beer only to find it empty. “Why? Is that important?”

“No, not really.” Ed shrugs and slouches down in his chair then turns his gaze to the table as he draws random patterns with his fingers. “Just thinking if Havoc hadn’t been there, you might not have had anything to use. You should look after yourself better if you plan on staying around, bastard.”

“I…what?” Ed shrugs at his question but that’s not enough of an answer. With this whole line of questioning he needs more than that. Roy balls up the wrapping for his sandwich then finally counters with a challenge of his own. “So what then, Fullmetal? Are you offering to help me with that somehow?”

“Maybe.” Ed doesn’t even hesitate and that alone shocks Roy. He doesn’t know what kind of game he’s playing but it has him completely unbalanced, not a position he likes to be in. He pushes away from the table and gathers up this trash to throw away when Ed stops him cold with his next words. “Would you even be up for that, Mustang? It might involve actually getting your hands dirty.”

Roy blinks and stares as Ed wads up his trash and puts it back in the bag. He leans forward to take the balled up wrapper from Roy’s hand and tosses it in the bag as well. Roy continues to stare another moment then shakes his head as he tries to make sense of any of this. “What are you suggesting? Why do you care?”

Ed stares back at him with a look Roy can’t read. When did Ed get so confusing? He’s always been easier than most to read because of his volatile temper. But this, Ed calm and thoughtful, is uncharted waters. Ed rolls the top of the bag down and shrugs again as if the whole conversation were completely normal.

“Maybe I don’t want to see anyone else hurt.” His words are even but Roy doesn’t miss the pain laced in them. He recognizes it immediately because he feels the same way any time he thinks about Hughes. “You say you want to work with us, to help us. Maybe I just want to make sure you’re as prepared as we are in case you end up somewhere without someone covering your fancy Colonel ass.”

“And just how to you plan on doing that?” Ed shrugs and that’s pretty much what Roy expected. He’s just spooked from Hughes’ death and the fight with the homunculi. He just needs a little time and soon enough it’ll all be forgot—

“You could practice sparring with me.”

“What?” Roy blinks and stares at Ed because he must be joking. He waits for the mocking smile or derisive smirk…that doesn’t come. Instead Ed’s staring at him with an entirely serious look that causes Roy to shake his head. “Edward, if you’re just looking for an excuse to take a shot at me, it’s not going to happen….”

“No, you bastard, it’s not about that.” Ed makes a face then rolls his eyes. “Okay with Ling it was about that. But this is different.” Ed leans forward against the table and looks Roy directly in the eyes. “Look at me and Al. Do you think he couldn’t totally pummel me if he wanted?” Roy tilts his head then nods which makes Ed scowl, but only for a moment. “It’s not about proving who’s stronger. It’s about making each other better.” Ed shrugs then leans back in his chair again. “But if you’re too old and set in your ways to learn something new….”

Roy smiles at the slight to his age because that’s not going to work with him. He’s already much younger than his contemporaries so that line of attack has no effect on him. However, Ed does make a good point. Hand to hand wouldn’t have helped him with the homunculus, but they really have no idea what else they might face. Yes, he has some martial arts training and some hand to hand practice from the Academy, but it’s honestly been years since he’s done more than snap his fingers or point a gun. He’s certain he could hold his own against an equal opponent, but what if he was facing someone as young and agile as Ed? There’s a good chance it won’t work out, but if he’s willing to try….

“Alright. I’ll give it a try.”

Ed freezes with his water glass halfway to his lips. His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open then closes with an audible snap. He blinks a few times then shakes his head as if he were trying to clear it. “Yeah? You really mean it?”

“You were serious, weren’t you?” Roy smiles in the face of Ed’s obvious surprise and folds his hands on the table as Ed nods eagerly. “Good. I’ll be looking forward to it.” His smile grows even more as he adds in a matter of fact tone, “I’m up by sunrise every day.”

“That sounds— Wait. _What_?” Ed shakes his head and sits up straight in the chair. “Are you _serious_?” Roy gives him a bored look that only makes him more agitated. “You actually expect me to come over here and train with you at _sunrise_? Who the hell gets up at sunrise?”

“People who have a long day of work ahead of them and want a little time to themselves.” Roy stands and gathers the bag of trash and his beer bottle. He takes the trash across the kitchen and tosses it in the rubbish bin under the sink. “However, if you’re not interested in lieu of your beauty sleep I can—”

“I’ll be here.” Roy looks back over his shoulder to see Ed slouched down in the chair with his arms crossed. Pouting. There’s no other word for the sullen look on his face. Ed’s lower lip is even protruding slightly and he can’t help from laughing.

“If it’s that big of an issue then it’s not necessary, Edward.” It was a nice idea but he’s not going to want to deal with a moody, insubordinate alchemist every morning. “It wasn’t an order.”

“No, no, I’ll be here.” He pushes against the table as he stands then carries his glass over to the sink. Roy doesn’t miss the stiff way he walks on his left leg and he wonders just how hard his earlier “sparring session” actually was. “You just make sure you have some coffee made. That’s the least you can do.”

“I think I can handle that.” Roy watches as Ed rubs his right shoulder and motions toward it. “Are you sure you’ll be up to it?” Ed pauses with his hand on his shoulder and looks at it almost as if he hadn’t realized what he was doing. “If not we don’t have to start this tomorrow.” He would be willing to give it a try as long as Ed doesn’t push him too far. He’s still healing himself, but if Ed’s not up to it either there’s no point in forcing the situation.

“I told you before I’m fine.” He rubs at his shoulder again then rolls it slowly. “It was just really cool the other night and damn hot today.” He shrugs his right shoulder once more then turns to lean against the sink. “Temperature just screws with my automail ports. It’s nothing.”

It’s obviously not “nothing.” But what can he say? It’s something Ed has to deal with no matter how unfair that may be. He just had no idea something as simple as the weather could cause him pain. Are there other seemingly insignificant things that bother him as well? With all of Ed’s stubbornness he’s never realized some of the most basic things about him even with years of watching over him. What else has he missed?

“You know, maybe you actually could do something to help though.” Ed gives him that same studying look from earlier and Roy has the distinct feeling he’s not going to like whatever Ed has in mind. He feels like he’s being measured for something and it’s not something he enjoys, particularly from Fullmetal.

“Is that so?” He turns away from Ed and walks across the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the refrigerator. He does it more as a distraction than for the beer itself, but considering the scheming look on Ed’s face he might just need it. He twists open the bottle then turns to face Ed again as he takes a drink. “And just how would you like me to help with the weather.”

“Not the weather. Bastard.” Ed rolls his eyes then moves his hands back to curl around the edge of the sink behind him. “I was thinking about that…thing you did. The other day.” He reaches up to brush his hair off his forehead even though it immediately falls right back into place. “With the glove.” Ed shifts on his feet and Roy feels like doing the same, but somehow he keeps still and makes sure his face is expressionless. “Whatever that was it made my headache go away. I was just wondering if…that’s all it does.”

He’s actually surprised Ed brought up the incident at all. The way he ran out of here Roy was certain he wanted to forget it, and possibly their recent alliance altogether. He considers discussing the events directly, but if Ed wants to ignore the details that could be for the best. Instead Roy focuses on the alkahestry considering that’s all he seems to be interested in. “It was alkahestry. I haven’t tried it much, but yes, I think it might be able to help some.” He pauses and waits for Ed to look at him directly again before continuing. “Are you saying you want me to try it again? I can’t promise it will work completely but….”

“I’ll try it.”

Roy blinks at his sudden acceptance. Is he in that much pain? He didn’t expect Ed to be so decisive so quickly, but it’s not the first time he’s seen him jump headlong into something. His plan to use Scar to draw out the homunculi is a perfect example. But this shouldn’t be an issue. He has no reason to believe the alkahestry is what caused the events of before. That action probably had more to do with Ed’s hangover than anything else. Also, considering it was the first time he really got the alkahestry to work…he’d like to try it again as well.

“Alright. We can give it a try.” Ed smiles at his acquiescence and pushes off the sink. Roy takes another drink of his beer then wonders how Ed will want to do this. After everything that’s happened in the library he wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to go there, but he’ll still need to get the glove he was working with. He looks over as Ed comes closer. “Do you want to do this here or….”

“Library’s fine,” he says simply and walks past Roy and into the hall. Roy shakes his head as he follows after him because sometimes Ed doesn’t make any sense. One minute he’s bolting sans shoes and the next he acts like nothing happened at all. Well, at least it doesn’t look like he’ll have to deal with an overprotective younger brother.

Roy meets Ed at the door to the library and as he fishes the key out of his pocket he decides to relent on some of his secrecy. Ed is letting him try out his alkahestry on him, the least he can do is share a little more of his alchemy. Trust does work in both directions and if he wants to keep this going, he might as well give a little. He holds out the key in Ed’s direction and nods toward the door. “Would you like to try it?”

“Heck yeah,” he responds instantly and snatches the key out of Roy’s hand. He smiles at Ed’s eagerness but then grins even more when Ed stops short of putting the key in the lock. He must still be wary of this type of alchemy. “So…how do I do this without electrocuting myself?”

Roy chuckles and takes a slight step away from the door to give Ed more space. “First of all you can’t use your Gate alchemy with this. The reaction is tied to the arrays, the key, and the lock.” Ed’s eyes widen at his words then he immediately looks down at the key. He turns it over in his hand and Roy’s not surprised at the scowl he receives.

“You didn’t tell me that before. You even have arrays on the damn key!” Ed’s voice sounds angry but the look in his eyes betrays his fascination as he studies the key. “You couldn’t just copy this. You’d have to have the arrays too, wouldn’t you?” Ed’s lips turn up in a smile as he puts it all together. “Bastard. I knew something was missing.”

“I had no doubt you did.” It’s probably part of the reason for Ed’s comment when he arrived. Ed knew there was more to the locks, even if he didn’t know what, and he’s smart enough to know not to mess with something you don’t understand. Roy frowns slightly because isn’t that what they’re doing with the alkahestry? He watches as Ed touches the three spots over the door then inserts and turns the key to deactivate the lock. “You know, Edward, maybe we shouldn’t try this again until I’ve studied the alkahestry some more. I’m still not completely familiar with the flow of energies.”

Ed looks back over his shoulder as he pushes the door open. “And how better to learn then experimentation? You know enough you aren’t gonna blow me up, right?” Roy huffs in annoyance but nods anyway. “Then let’s try it. It’s not like we can’t stop if something’s off.”

Since when did Fullmetal start trusting him so much? He follows him into the room and pockets the key when Ed hands it back to him. He watches him head over to sit on the couch and then it hits him. This isn’t about trust. He saw how captivated Ed was when he saw the key and the alchemic theories came together in his head. This is about Ed wanting to know more and that’s a very dangerous combination. But he does have a point. Roy’s been studying these theories for years and they can stop if things go awry.

Mind made up he crosses over to his desk and pulls his alkahestry modified glove out of the drawer. He slides it over his right hand then looks over to see Ed’s pulled off his red coat and thrown it over the back of the couch. He really does look older when he’s not wearing that garish thing. Roy shakes his head at the thought as he walks back over to join him on the couch and reminds Ed again, “Just remember, if anything feels strange you can tell me to stop.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Colonel. It’s okay to say no.”

Roy barely keeps from rolling his eyes in response to Ed’s mocking tone. It may be all fun and games to him, but he still hasn’t figured out why the glove even worked the last time. When he pulled it out, he hadn’t actually expected it to do anything, considering it never had before. He definitely didn’t expect the warmth he felt in his hand or for it to completely cure Ed’s headache. But that’s what experimentation’s about, right?

“I’m going to try and start with the bruise on your face, alright?” Ed nods and scoots closer to him. Roy reaches out with his gloved hand and lightly traces over the reddish mark forming under his eye. He can feel an energy as the array activates and he focuses on the feeling first before attempting to control it. He glides his fingertips over to his uninjured cheek and the difference is readily apparent as he moves back to the bruise. It’s not scientific, but he almost wants to describe the bruised skin as “angry” compared to his left cheek.

Ed sighs out a long breath and Roy pauses to see if he’s still alright. He doesn’t say anything so he turns his attention back to the “angry” feeling mark. In his research of this science he has studied healing and he knows the reddish hue in his skin is from broken blood vessels. He focuses on that and finally attempts to direct the energy he senses. His hand warms, all the way to his fingertips, and he guides a feather light touch over Ed’s damaged skin. He becomes so focused on feeling and following the energy he nearly doesn’t notice the skin turning darker, more purplish then fading into a lighter shade of green. The bruise follows the natural course of healing, lightening to a pale shade of yellow, and the process is so stunning it finally breaks Roy’s focus.

He sucks in a breath and only then realizes his own heart is racing. He feels like he’s just performed a huge alchemical reaction. No, that’s not quite right. Alchemy will exhaust you like running or moving a heavy object. This is different. This feels almost like someone sapped his energy directly. Does this science pull from you directly? Is the energy he’s directing his own? He starts to pull his hand back to ponder it more when Ed’s hand comes up and grabs his wrist tightly.

“Don’t. Don’t stop.” Roy blinks to focus on Ed once again and he doesn’t miss the strange quality to Ed’s voice. It’s a little hoarse, a little deeper, and he tries to tug his hand away again.

“Edward, wait. Let me thin—”

“Please.” Golden eyes open and lock with his and the need is so strong it takes his breath. Is he really hurting so much? There’s a desperation to the single word that’s echoed in his dilated eyes. His breathing’s heavier too and Roy nods slowly. He has no idea how long he’s been this bad. How can he possibly say no?

“Where?” His own voice is thick and he’s not sure if it’s from the reaction or the pleading emotion in Ed’s eyes. Ed pulls his hand to his right shoulder and Roy doesn’t have to ask again. He can feel it like an angry, red haze over Ed’s body. He can’t directly imagine the healing process, like with the bruise, but this isn’t an actual wound, is it? It’s a dull ache, a low throb that he reaches out for and tries to smooth over. He feels a stronger pull this time and his hand warms nearly to the point of discomfort. He feels the heat travel up his arm but he ignores it and pours all his focus into touching and soothing the discord in Ed’s shoulder and down his side.

Ed makes a low sound, a moan near his ear, and Roy drives himself further into the reaction. Is he hurting him? The angry feeling haze has evened out, just like with the bruise, but it’s being replaced by something else he doesn’t understand. Is there a backlash? It doesn’t feel painful, but when Ed moans again he knows he’s gone too far. He’s hurt him and he needs to stop. He pulls back, but barely makes it more than an inch before two strong hands grab him by the shirtfront and haul him forward, hard.

What’s Ed doing? Roy sucks in a breath to ask but he can’t utter a syllable before firm lips press against his. Again? Why is he— Ed’s hot, wet tongue slides over his lips and into his mouth before he can finish the thought. Roy tries to push him away but Ed leans into him and sweeps his tongue through his mouth. Heat kindles deep inside him at the touch and he fights to push it away. He needs to stop this. 

_Now_.

Roy tries to pull back, to get some needed space between them, but just as before Ed moves with him until he’s pressed against the back of the couch. Ed’s coming close to crawling into his lap and that can’t happen. He won’t let it. He gets his hands on Ed’s shoulders to shove him more forcefully when cool, automail fingers slide over the back of his neck. When did Ed take his gloves off? Roy’s heart races at the touch. How long has it been since he felt—

No, no, he can’t go there. This needs to stop. But then those metal fingers curl around the back of his neck and pull him forward, deeper into the kiss….

And he’s lost.

The touch. The heat mixed with hard, cool steel sends him back in time and he kisses Ed back without thought. How long has it been since he kissed someone like this? People talk about his reputation, but they don’t realize it’s all for show. Not like this. This is hot and vital and _real_. His hands slip from Ed’s shoulders to run down his sides and the low moan Ed makes against his lips sends heat flaring inside him again. Ed’s kiss is eager, maybe a little too much so, and is laced with youthful desire and need so strong Roy struggles to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t get carried away.

But he is. And it’s overwhelming.

Ed moves forward again, crawling over him and Roy’s hands find their way around his waist of their own accord. Why does this feel so familiar? Groans fill his ears and it’s not until he feels himself panting that he realizes the sound came from his own lips. Ed squirms in his lap and Roy lunges forward to kiss down his throat. He can taste the salt on Ed’s skin and his body craves more, so much more. Hard muscles cry out to be touched through the thin fabric shirt under his hands and he wants to oblige. He wants to strip him bare and caress flesh and automail alike. He wants to—

What the fuck is he doing?!

His breath catches when Ed grinds down in his lap—inadvertent or not he doesn’t want to know—and he reaches for his hips to still them. Roy’s body is already more than happy to react to Ed’s touch and he needs to get control. This isn’t right. He doesn’t even know what this is, but it can’t happen. Ed shifts again and in the process of trying to make him stop Roy suddenly finds his hands on Ed’s ass. Shit! Ed’s hot mouth is on his neck and Roy tilts his head back, savoring the wet feel of his tongue mapping its way down—

No. It doesn’t matter how good he feels this isn’t happening. Roy slides his hands back to Ed’s waist and bodily throws him on the couch next to him. Then he scoots toward the other end as quickly as he can. He’s still panting and his body’s more than a little overheated from the sudden make out session. He shifts one of the side flaps of his military pants in an attempt to cover the traitorous bulge between his legs. What’s wrong with him? This is Fullmetal! He can’t be reacting this way. He looks over to see a stunned look on Ed’s face and he waits for the inevitable slamming of the front door as he bolts. But it doesn’t come.

“What the hell, bastard?” Roy shifts again on the couch because the way Ed is sprawling out beside him is doing nothing to help the condition he’s in. “Why did you stop?”

“Why did I--?” Did he actually just ask that question? Roy’s eyes widen when Ed sits up and starts leaning closer. A hand brushes against his thigh and it’s enough to send him bolting off the couch and out of Ed’s reach. “Fullmetal! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I actually was starting to enjoy myself.” He glances away and Roy doesn’t miss the faint blush forming on his cheeks. How can he be so forward one minute and seemingly embarrassed the next? He looks back at Roy and his expression turns to a frown. “Until you decided to throw me around. What gives? Why are you over there?”

Roy takes another deliberate step back as he tries to get any of this to make sense. He set up codes with his men to be able to verify their identities, but he never did so with Ed. Is this even really Ed? Is this some kind of a ploy to make fool out of him? Roy thinks about the conversation in the kitchen and shakes his head. It would be one thing to look like Ed, but to know about his alkahestry? No one knows about that. This has to be Ed even if it doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m over here because you’ve obviously lost hold of your faculties.” Ed’s eyes roam over him and once again he tries to suppress his body’s reactions. He’s finally caught his breath but he can feel his cheeks are flushed more than usual and his lips feel slightly swollen from the aggressiveness of Ed’s kiss.

“Don’t give me that shit, Mustang. You were obviously enjoying yourself too.” Ed leans back on the couch and his scowl deepens. He looks away from Roy and after a moment he snatches his coat off the back of the couch and drops it in his lap. He slouches down then mutters barely audible, “That stuff works though, like I thought it would.”

Ed’s words don’t immediately register but when they do Roy can barely contain his anger. “You what?” He takes a step closer and Ed looks up at him with a bored expression that only fuels his rage. “You _knew_ that was going to happen?!”

“Ummm….” Ed chews his lower lip and shrugs slightly as he looks back toward the bookcases behind the couch. He fists his hands in his coat and at least has the decency to look chagrined. “Well…I didn’t know exactly…but I thought…maybe….”

“What is this about, Fullmetal? Are you just trying to make me look like a fool?” Roy stalks a few steps toward his desk then spins around and rips off his glove. He tosses it on the desk behind him and he can’t contain his wrath as he storms forward. “Is this some game for you? Let’s see how far we can screw with the Colonel before he breaks? What is _wrong_ with you?”

“No! It wasn’t like that!” Ed sits up straight and Roy sees genuine surprise and maybe even a little fear spread across his face. “I wasn’t—I mean I wanted to see if it would…but it wasn’t about you.” Ed shakes his head so hard locks of hair pull from his tie and fall in his face. “I just…it worked you know. The soreness I had….” He shrugs his shoulders and gives Roy a wide eyed and earnest look. “It’s gone. And it’s never gone, Mustang.” He lowers his eyes and his words become barely audible again. “As for the other…I just…wanted to see if it would…happen again.”

“Again.” The word hits him like a punch to the gut. For the last twenty four hours he’s been trying to figure out what he did wrong, how he caused the entire situation, and now Ed’s saying it was all due to the alkahestry. And not only did he know it was an effect… _he wanted to repeat it!_ Roy’s eyes narrow at the thought of being Fullmetal’s lab monkey and it takes every bit of restraint he has to keep from grabbing him by that blond ponytail and throwing him out of his house. 

“Mustang…I mean Colonel, I wasn’t….” Ed stumbles over his words, but it’s the contrite look on his face that’s the only thing keeping Roy from kicking him out immediately. “I didn’t really mean to keep it from you. I just…. Yesterday I didn’t really know what was going on and how to react. And I don’t do confrontation well….”

“That’s an understatement.” Ed glances up to glare at him then just as quickly looks away. Roy still doesn’t know what kind of game he’s playing, but this has to be the first time Ed’s ever freely admitted he was less than perfect. That alone is enough to make him willing to hear him out, though what he still doesn’t understand is _why_ he’d want a repeat of yesterday if he had any inclination the same “effect” would happen.

“Yeah, well…it happens.” He fidgets with the coat in his lap again then heaves out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, okay?” Roy blinks because this really is turning into a night of firsts. He doesn’t think Ed’s ever actually apologized to him before. He relaxes his own stance a little more as Ed continues. “It’s just…I mean, was it…that bad?” Ed stares down at the coat he’s twisting in his hands and Roy has to strain to hear the rest of his words. “Was I…?”

How in the world is he supposed to answer that? How can he? He takes a careful step toward him, but Ed doesn’t lift his head even the slightest bit. Roy runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. He should just ignore it. He should just say yes and put an end to this altogether. But he knows Edward too well. The last thing he needs is more wounds to his self-image. He sighs once more then sucks in a breath to brace himself against what he needs to do.

“No, Edward. It wasn’t bad.” Ed’s head immediately snaps up and doubtful golden eyes lock with his. Roy meets them reluctantly and forces himself to keep to the truth no matter how damning it may be. “You weren’t bad either.”

Ed’s eyes bore into his and he steels himself from looking away. If he does Ed will never believe his words. He’s been lied to more than enough not to recognize the signs, so Roy holds his ground and hopes this actually isn’t a ploy to make him look foolish. He wouldn’t expect something like that from Fullmetal, but over the years he’s learned never to underestimate anyone, particularly when his career or reputation are involved.

“I knew it.” A devious grin spreads across Ed’s face and Roy gives him his best disapproving look. All he needs right now is Ed giving him a hard time or being inappropriate over the entire situation.

“That’s well and good, Edward, but right now we need to—”

“Wanna do it again?”

Roy’s mouth drops open at Ed’s words and he stares in disbelief. Surely he’s kidding. He can’t possibly be suggesting that they…. No. It’s completely inappropriate. Ed stares at him with a look Roy can only describe as indecently suggestive and he inwardly curses the stirrings he feels deep inside. What did the alkahestry _do_ to him? He’s never looked at Ed this way. He glances at the coat Ed’s gripping and he wishes he would put it on so he’d look like the younger subordinate he’s used to dealing with and not this foreignly aggressive young man before him.

“Absolutely not!” Ed arches an eyebrow at him like he’s the crazy one and Roy’s carefully re-manufactured cool facade cracks. “Why would you even— What has gotten into you, Edward? Is this still the alkahestry?” He gives him a harder look as he continues to keep his distance from him. “Did I fry your brain or something?”

“No, you bastard. And maybe a little….” Ed shrugs and shakes his head flippantly. “Does it even matter?”

“Of course it matters!” Roy takes a step back then paces behind the two armchairs facing the couch. He stops after a second then whips his head over to look at the infuriating alchemist sitting on the edge of his seat watching his every move like he’s the one who’s lost his sanity. “Obviously the alkahestry had a…unique effect on you. But that doesn’t mean you need to give into it!” Is this a permanent thing? Will Ed be trying to make out with anyone he sees? What has he done? “Edward…if you can’t control yours—”

“Stop being an idiot.” Ed rolls his eyes dramatically then locks them on Roy again. “All I’m saying is if you enjoyed it and I enjoyed it, why can’t we do it again?”

“Why can’t we…. NO!” Roy turns and grips the high back of the chair in front of him and stares at Ed in disbelief. “Have you lost your—” He cuts himself off and takes a breath. This is not the way to deal with Fullmetal and he knows it. If he loses his temper this will escalate into a screaming match or descend into even more madness. “No, Edward. And that’s the end of this conversation.”

Ed’s eyes widen slightly then he crosses his arms and slumps against the back of the couch. It’s a welcome sight because _now_ he looks like the juvenile he usually acts like. He scowls deeply and Roy nearly lets out a relieved breath when he grouse low, “Don’t see what the big deal is. Not like you don’t do that shit all the time.”

Roy freezes the instant the words are out of Ed’s mouth. Is that what he really thinks? Ed continues to sulk and Roy’s shoulders droop ever so slightly. He shouldn’t care if Ed actually believes that. It’s exactly the image he’s spent years cultivating even if it couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s a perfect cover for his usual political machinations. But to have his own subordinate, someone he’s worked with and watched over for _years_ not be able to see beyond it….

“If that’s the way you see things, Edward, I think it’s time we call it a night. It’s getting late anyway.” Ed’s head snaps up and he realizes he’s probably said too much, but it doesn’t matter now. Right now he needs to get Ed out of here before he cons him into doing something else inappropriate. He also needs to spend a little time trying to figure out why the alkahestry was having that kind of an effect on Ed. Needless to say he won’t be using it again until he does.

“Wait, Mustang, don’t be like that. I told you I was sorry.” Ed scoots back on the couch like Roy’s going to physically throw him out and he doesn’t understand his reaction. He catches a trace of panic in Ed’s eyes as he looks around the library at the books and it falls into place. He’s afraid of being thrown out for good.

Roy runs his hand over his face and he really does need to call it a night. It’s been a long and exhausting day and this is just adding to it. “You can come back tomorrow night, Edward.” He pauses a moment then quickly amends, “As long as you behave yourself.”

Ed snorts with derision, but obviously relaxes all the same. “Yeah, whatever.” He stands and pulls on his long, red coat. He takes a step toward the door then stops to look over at Roy. “What about the sparring? You chickening out already?”

This time Roy’s the one to roll his eyes then shakes his head. “Fine. I’ll see you in the morning. But don’t be late.”

Ed’s already walking out the door and he waves a hand at his words. “Alright, bastard. See you tomorrow.”

And with that he heads out the door, pausing only to pick up his other pair of shoes on the way out. He’d like to have more of a response, but for the moment all Roy can do is stare at the doorway in disbelief. He really thought he’d reached a point where nothing Fullmetal could do would surprise him. Turns out he couldn’t have been more wrong. The only question he has now is…what will his unpredictable subordinate do next?


	8. Chapter 8

Stupid bastard. Stupid sunrise. Stupid fucking Mustang. Who the hell gets up at _sunrise_ anyway? Oh yeah, stupid bastard Colonels do.

Ed rushes down the street and he still can’t believe he’s running so late. He probably wouldn’t be up at all if Al hadn’t accidentally woken him up arguing with Ling. He didn’t have time to figure out what the heated discussion was about, but one thing’s for sure. That guy is spending way too much time in their hotel room. They really, _really_ need to start locking the windows, though somehow he doubts it would make much of a difference. As it was he barely had time to get dressed before running out the door and he’s still late. Stupid, fucking Mustang.

Ed breaks into a jog as he nears Columbus Street and scowls. Mustang better have that coffee as promised. He hardly ever goes a morning without it anymore and though Al’s not happy about it he does concede to have a pot ready once he wakes up. This morning was no different except in his rush to get out the door he tripped over Lan Fan’s foot that he still swears she stuck out on purpose. His coffee ended up all over his red coat and he couldn’t get another cup because a certain Prince had already drank the rest. So now he’s without his coat _and_ his coffee and Mustang better watch himself when he gets there or he’s going to end up getting knocked on his ass.

He jogs past the café he picked up sandwiches from the day before and growls under his breath when the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits him in the face. The scent’s mingled with fresh baked morning pastries and Ed’s rumbling stomach chooses that moment to remind him he didn’t bother with breakfast either. He pushes himself into a run as he passes the open air part of the bistro and contents himself with picturing how much fun it’ll be to “accidentally” get in a good shot against the Colonel. He’s still angry about yesterday, not that he wants to think about it, so the thought of violence is a perfect distraction. If he’s thinking about hitting the Colonel in the face then he won’t be thinking about doing other things to his face and….

Dammit! He wasn’t going to go there. Stupid Mustang. Why did he have to make him feel like the fool when he obviously enjoyed it as well? Asshole. He doesn’t see how he’s any different than all the other—shit! He’s not thinking about this. He runs even faster through the neighborhood that’s getting more and more familiar looking until Mustang’s stupid house finally comes into view. He jogs up onto the porch and knocks loudly as he presses his hand to his side and catches his breath.

But no one answers.

What the hell? Ed tries the door only to find it locked. Is he fucking with him? He’s earlier than he was the other day when he talked to Mustang before he left for work so he can’t be gone already. He reaches back to retie the hair that’s fallen out of his hairband during his run. They did say they were going to spar. Maybe Mustang’s already out in the backyard. Ed huffs as he stomps off the porch then walks around the side of the house. Mustang’s car is still parked under the shade of a couple large trees so he has to be here somewhere.

He makes his way past it to a gate in the tall wooden fence that’s partially open. Considering how paranoid Mustang usually is about his privacy he’s willing to bet he left it open for him. Good. That should mean he’ll be ready to go and Ed can work out some of his damn frustration. He pushes the gate open all the way but then stops after only a few steps. His eyes widen and his breath catches. He should’ve realized he might be doing… _that_. Ed wets his lips and all he can do is stare as Mustang moves fluidly through his sequence of memorized Tai Chi forms.

It really is a lot like a dance, not that Ed knows much about dancing. But if he did he’d imagine a good dance would be something like this, smooth and controlled and impossible to look away from. He shifts on his feet as he watches the toned muscles of Mustang’s back stretch and flex as his arms move to one side and seem to draw his right knee up as he balances on his left foot. He holds the pose only for a moment before his hands and right leg stretch out together in perfect harmony. He lowers his left foot to the ground then shifts his weight onto it and continues the dance with more moves that mimic ones Ed knows along with some he’s never seen before.

Why didn’t Teacher ever show them this? Probably because it didn’t have an immediate application. But watching Mustang carefully control his weight transfer and balance he can easily see the benefits…as well as other things. He’s done a lot of thinking—and dreaming—since he first saw Mustang doing this and he’s come to one conclusion he can’t argue with. He finds the damn bastard attractive. It’s disconcerting, yes, but Ed’s never been one to shy away from truths once he’s faced with them, no matter how disturbing they may be. Right now part of him would still like to put a fist to Mustang’s jaw. The other part…he doesn’t want to think about.

Mustang turns and Ed can’t pull his eyes away from his profile. He sees the scar running down his side and once again it does nothing to repel him. If anything it adds to his mystique and makes him seem more attainable…especially for someone like Ed. In his eyes it actually makes Mustang more attractive because perfection, as he’s learned the hard way, is completely unrealistic. Mustang reaches out then pulls his hands closer as he shifts his weight again, almost as if he were tossing an invisible assailant aside, and Ed’s heart races at the way the muscles move under his skin. He’d like to touch them, to feel them tense under his hands just like they did in his dream the other night….

Dammit. He wasn’t going to think about that _ever_ again! He wets his lips as Mustang steps forward and moves into and through a low lunging squat with the same grace as every other move. Stupid bastard. Why does he have to be the one to make him feel this way? He watches, completely transfixed, until Mustang’s equalizing his weight on both feet and pressing his hands deliberately down by his sides. It’s only then Ed realizes he’s come to the end of his exercise and he suddenly feels like he’s been doing something wrong watching him like this again. But what else was he supposed to do? He didn’t mean to—

“Edward. You’re late.” Mustang’s dark eyes lock on him briefly then quickly look away. He walks over to the front railing of the deck and retrieves his white button down shirt. He turns away from Ed as he puts it on and Ed frowns at losing the nice view.

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. So are we gonna— Hey, where are you going?” Ed chases after him when he climbs the two steps onto the wooden deck and heads for the back door. “What gives? I thought you wanted to—”

“I did. An hour ago.” Mustang pauses at the back door to look over his shoulder and Ed sees his shirt’s all the way buttoned up. The way he turned away so quickly it was almost as if he was trying to hide from him. Why would he bother with that now? “But as usual you can’t bother to be on time.”

The frosty tone in Mustang’s voice takes him off guard him and he follows him into the kitchen. Is he that mad about him being late? Why would he start being mad now? Ed rolls his shoulders as he watches Mustang walk over to the stove and he wonders if he can change his mind. He’s still all wound up and a sparring session would help a ton. He glances around when he doesn’t smell the familiar scent he’s expecting. “Hey, where’s the coffee?”

Mustang shoots him a look that has him almost wishing he hadn’t asked. “I didn’t make any,” he replies flatly then pours something that’s obviously not coffee from the kettle on the stove into a cup.

“Huh?” Ed blinks at his matter of fact tone and fists his hands. That’s not fair. The entire way over here he consoled himself with the promise of coffee. How dare Mustang renege on their deal? “What? You said you’d have it waiting!”

“And you said you’d be on time.” His voice is smooth and even as he takes his steaming cup of not-coffee over to the kitchen table and sits down. “To be honest I wasn’t actually expecting you, so I brewed tea. Feel free to try it if you like.”

Tea? Seriously? He doesn’t want any damn tea! But for some reason he finds himself going over and filling the second cup on the counter next to the stove. He scowls down at the hot liquid that’s nothing like coffee. It actually looks green. What is this crap? Stupid Mustang. Why does he always have to be so difficult? Ed brings the cup to his lips and hazards a tiny sip. It’s nothing like coffee. Not even a little bit, but it’s nothing like that dark, bitter tea Granny would drink either. It’s…different but not bad, just like many things he’s learning about where Mustang’s concerned, and that alone is disconcerting.

Ed holds the warm cup in both of his hands and turns around. He leans back against the counter by the stove and scowls when he sees the slight upturn to Mustang’s lips. He should’ve spit the stupid, weird tea out but instead he finds himself taking another sip as he eyes Mustang suspiciously. Is this some other bizarre test that only makes sense to the Colonel? He considers asking until he realizes he really doesn’t care. All he’s concerned with right now is trying to get the bastard back outside to kick his ass.

“So, are you really gonna chicken out already? It’s still early.” Ed tilts his head back toward the back door. “We’ve still got a little time, unless you’re just—”

“I’m not having this discussion with you, Fullmetal.” Mustang drinks down the last of his tea then reaches for the gun holster on the table. Ed slouches back against the counter and glares at him as he puts it on. “I have a full day ahead of me at work and I can’t be running late. However—”

“So that’s it, huh? Your way or no way?” Ed crosses his arms and his scowl deepens. He’s so tired of Mustang’s superior attitude. He watches him slide into his blue uniform jacket that was on the back of the chair and he _does not_ like the way the stupid things fits him so perfectly. He hates the fucking uniforms. Particularly since they didn’t have them in his size when he enlisted. Fucking military uniform _does not_ make the bastard look anything but more bastardy….

“However…,” he drawls out and Ed deliberately looks away when his dark eyes lock on him. “If you’d like to stay and work in the library, you’re welcome to. I just ask—”

“That I don’t leave. Got it.” Ed shrugs then reaches back for his tea cup on the counter and takes another sip. He’s still not looking at Mustang and it has nothing to do with anything other than he doesn’t want to see his smug face. He grips the cup tighter with his flesh hand then snaps, “Though, maybe I can’t promise that. I do have other things to do besides sort through all your shit.” He knows he shouldn’t say that. Mustang could just as easily tell him to leave, but he doesn’t like being so at his mercy on everything!

“Actually, that’s not what I was going to say.” Ed turns to look at him again and instantly wishes he hadn’t. He’s not sure what’s wrong with him today, but he needs to get a handle on this. Mustang’s no closer to him but as he pulls on his white gloves Ed can’t look away. For some reason every damn move he makes his making the room much too warm. Mustang reaches into his pocket for something and Ed glances away. “I was just going to ask that you lock the door behind you.”

Ed whips his head back around to see Mustang holding out his hand. Ed blinks in confusion but holds out his own hand all the same. Mustang drops the library key into his palm and all Ed can do is stare at it. Is he really giving him full access to the library? Why? Isn’t he angry with him for last night or being late or…he doesn’t even know at this point. Everything’s so fucked up right now it makes no sense at all!

“Just leave the key on the hall table if you need to leave.” Ed nods mutely, still looking at the key and all the numerous engravings that cover it. They almost look decorative, but now that he knows what they are he can recognize the lines of alchemy. What he doesn’t understand is why Mustang’s trusting him so damn much.

“Oh, yes. There was one other thing.” Ed looks up to find Mustang’s over by the kitchen door now. He’s adjusting the cuff of his sleeve and for once not staring Ed down with those piercing, deep eyes. “I forgot to tell you last night…Lieutenant Havoc is awake.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in and when they do Ed fists his hands angrily around the key. “What?! Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

Mustang’s eyebrows rise slightly in an annoyingly superior look that makes Ed feel like he’s ten steps behind. “I apologize. I wasn’t aware you and the Lieutenant were so close.”

“We aren’t…I mean….” Ed scowls and glares in Mustang’s general direction. “Do you always have to be such an ass?”

Mustang stares back at him with no change in expression. It’s a look Ed’s become more than used to over the years and usually means the Colonel thinks he’s being insolent about something. But then, after a moment, his expression softens into one he’s starting to see more and more. It’s strange but this time…it actually doesn’t make him feel all out of sorts. This time he actually likes it.

“Actually, knowing Jean, he’d probably enjoy your company if you’d like to stop by.” Ed looks away because he’s not so sure of that. He’s never _really_ been a part of Mustang’s unit. He’s always just been the annoying alchemist who breezed in and out over the years. He hardly thinks Havoc would care to see him now. “I’ll see you later this evening if you’re still here,” and with that Mustang walks out of the kitchen door.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see about that,” Ed calls out though he doubts he will. He wouldn’t even know what to say to the Lieutenant. He turns the key over in his hand as he hears Mustang pick up his car keys from the bowl on the hall table then probably grabs his coat. The front door closes with a hard thump and only then does he relax. Here he is again, alone, in Mustang’s house. Pretty funny considering he said he wasn’t even expecting him. Ed pockets the key then finishes off his cup of tea. He turns toward the stove to find more in the pot and pours the steaming brew into the cup.

Wait a minute.

Ed stares hard at the still half full pot in his hand. He places it back on the stove and tilts his head as pieces he didn’t even notice begin to fit together in his head. Mustang had two cups set out and he obviously made more tea than he needed. Why would he do that if he really thought Ed wouldn’t be showing up? Why would he deliberately make this instead of the coffee he promised? Ed knows he has a percolator. He’s seen it. Ed lifts the ceramic cup and turns it in his hand. It only makes sense if Mustang _wanted_ him to try this. But why? And why does that give him a warm feeling that has nothing to do with the hot, green liquid. 

Ed grinds his teeth then turns sharply for the kitchen door, careful not to spill his tea. Mustang couldn’t have known he’d like this. He couldn’t even have known he didn’t like Granny’s black tea. Ed stalks down the hall and remembers how the fence gate was open as well. Is that why he was so pissy at first? Was he actually annoyed that he was late? The possibility is more than he wants to even consider and he sets his cup on the hall table as he fishes the key out of his pocket.

He presses three fingers to the spots above the doorknob then slides the key into the lock. A quick alchemic flash later the door opens and Ed’s again left to ponder what’s going on with the damn Colonel. Last night he acted like the thought of touching him was completely repellent. Okay, not repellent, but something that was utterly out of the question. He reaches back to grab his cup of tea then wanders into the library with a scowl deeply etched into his face.

That reaction would make sense if he didn’t like it. But the look he gave him….

Ed looks over to the char Mustang was standing, no, _hiding_ behind and that warm feeling inside comes back. He was certain Mustang was disgusted with how he bolted…but the look of him. It wasn’t disgust. He doesn’t have much experience with any of this shit but the way his hand white knuckled on the back of the chair, the way his breathing was as rapid as Ed’s ever seen, the way his lips were swollen, and his eyes….

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Ed tears his eyes away from the chair and starts toward the couch but stops after only a step. He can’t sit there. Not when just standing here he can remember the taste of the bastard’s lips and the feel of them brushing along his jaw. Ed turns sharply to get away from the memory and stalks across the library to the desk. He sets his tea down then quickly walks back over to collect the books he’d pulled out before from the coffee table. He doesn’t care if Mustang doesn’t want him at his desk. He never said he couldn’t and that’s good enough for him.

He drops the books on the table then reaches out and downs nearly all of the hot tea. It burns his lips and tongue but at least that gets his mind off other things. Ed pulls out the chair and drops into it then reaches for Gruene’s Anthology to copy down more notes for Al. He opens up the book, flipping as quickly through the aged pages as he dares when he realizes he didn’t bring any paper for notes. Dammit. There was some folded up in his coat, not that it does him any good now. He looks over the desk and huffs out a breath. He should just ask Mustang to borrow the damn book. It would save a hell of a lot of time.

Ed pokes around the neat piles of stuff on the far edge of the desk but nothing he finds seems to be scratch paper. He rolls his eyes then jerks open the lap drawer only to find pens, paperclips, and other odds and ends that aren’t paper. Well, he didn’t intend on snooping but it looks like he has no choice. He yanks open the right drawer then freezes when his eyes land on…the glove.

He wants to touch it. He wants to figure out how it works but even as he considers pulling it out a feeling of trepidation and excitement runs through him. Ed saw his face when he got back to the hotel last night and he doesn’t know how but there was barely a yellowish mark left from the black eye he’d certainly have had. His aches and pains, even the ones from the automail, are still nearly nonexistent and he wonders how long the reprieve will last. It’s all because of Mustang and that glove and he wants to know why.

He snatches the glove from the drawer before he loses his nerve and spreads it out on the desk. He leans forward until his nose is nearly pressed to it and examines every swooping line. It’s not as geometrical as alchemy. Obviously it relies on different principles he has no idea about. How did Mustang make it work and how did it have such an effect on him? He runs an automail finger over the green fabric painted line and he wants to know if he can use this science too. He stares at the design a little longer, memorizing it in his mind. Surely it’s just like an alchemy array. He should be able to act as the array by focusing on it and use his personal Gate to activate the reaction. It should be as simple as clapping his hands together….

Mustang would probably have a fit, but he doesn’t care. You only learn by doing. He claps his hands together without hesitation and forms the array in his mind’s eyes just like he has with other arrays a million times before. He sees it, the swirling lines and foreign symbols just like on the glove. He focuses all his intent on the strange array, pouring energy into it like he would alchemy then presses his hands to his chest—

Nothing happens.

Actually, it’s less than nothing. He opens his eyes and stares down at the glove and its offending array. He should’ve felt something. A crackle of energy, a pulse of emotion, heat, desire, _something_ other than flat nothing! It’s as if he didn’t know how to do alchemy at all. He scowls deeply and picks up the damn glove. He rips his own off his right hand with his teeth then pulls Mustang’s glove on. He studies it for another moment then does the one thing he’s seen the smug bastard do many times before. He waves his arm flamboyantly and snaps his automail fingers the best he can.

But nothing happens.

Ed snarls at the lack of anything then presses his hands together again. Maybe he just needed to be wearing the array. He focuses all his intent, all his will and energy into the array on his hand. There’s more to alchemy than just lines and circles. The user has to be a part of each reaction and that’s why if you do immense amounts of alchemy it can tire you out. It’s also why some are better than others because they can harness the energies of the reaction with their intent. It’s a good thing or the very existence of an array could be dangerous for the unwary. So now he focuses his entire being on this one damn array as he presses his hands flush together. 

And nothing fucking happens.

“Fuck!” Ed glares down at the stupid alkahestry array. It’s as if he didn’t know what he was doing at all. Fucking Mustang could do it. Why can’t he? Unless.... Ed rips off the glove then claps his hands together with a fair amount of desperation. Maybe the problem isn’t the alkahestry. Maybe it’s him! He slams his hands to the desk then breathes a sigh of relief when the top portion of the wood grows into the small gargoyle face he pictured in his mind. The crackle of alchemy’s still tingling on his fingers just the way it should be.

It’s not him. It’s just Mustang’s stupid whatever this shit is supposed to be. He claps his hands together again to return the desk to its normal shape then reaches down to pick up the glove from where it fell on the floor. He gives it another long look then tosses the stupid thing back in the drawer. He’ll just need to get Mustang to do it again. That’s all there is to it. It’s all about the science anyway.

And heat. And pleasure. And that insistent throbbing between his legs….

Shit.

Ed slams the drawer closed then reaches for one of the books about myths and legends. He needs to stop thinking about this shit. He’ll just need to find some paper later or ask to borrow the book altogether. For now he just needs to get his mind on something that doesn’t have anything to do with a dark eyed Colonel or crazy alkahestry and all its distracting side effects. Ed flips through the book then settles back in the chair as he randomly selects a story. These tales seem to be centered out of the south so that should be interesting and different.

The first several stories he pages through seem to be about nothing more than superstitions and old wives’ tales. There’s no malevolent creatures or events so they’re probably inconsequential. He does find several references to a God of the Sun, but it doesn’t seem to be related to Leto. Apparently there are other sun gods for disillusioned people to believe in. He skims through a few more tales and it’s easy to see there’s a whole culture in the far south that seems to believe in god or goddesses for everything. He doesn’t know much about Aerugo, but considering the origins of many of these legends seem to be near the border he wonders if they could have originated there.

Ed flips to another section and something finally catches his eyes, but for all the wrong reasons. Apparently there was a tradition, still followed in some rural areas, which involved an entire festival for a fertility god and goddess named Priape and Aphea. The festivals would include fire rituals, wild drumming, and even naked dancing along with food and drink to celebrate the rebirth of spring. Ed’s cheeks heat when he reads that one ancient festival no longer practiced included a couple designated as Priape and Aphea who had sex publicly in honor of the godly pair.

He squirms in his chair at the thought of such a public display when something else catches his attention. There’s a note about another goddess, a dark side of Aphea that wasn’t to be crossed. Ed scours the text for a name but all he sees are references to the dark side of passion. He grunts in frustration as he flips through more pages until he runs across a panel of an ink drawing that looks a little familiar. The figure is primarily in shadow but even in the darkness there’s no missing the long, black hair and curvy silhouette. His eyes track down to the caption and he finds the name Epithuma. Now he has a direction!

Ed flips back to the front of the book and runs his fingers down the contents page. Most of the translations in the book have been decent. He just hopes they have more than just an image on this Epithuma. He flips to the second page of contents and grins when he sees the name halfway down the page. Now he’s making progress! He quickly opens to the assigned page and scans through the text.

_”Though usually only spoken of in hushed whispers under the cover of darkness, Epithuma is a tale that continues to persist. Maybe it’s the lure of dark promise or primal urges or maybe it’s something else altogether. She is not a goddess of the harvest or of rebirth but one of strong passions and base desire. The most common tales, however, are more of a cautionary nature such as the Tale of the Man Inflamed by Desire._

_In the recent past, there lived a young man inflamed by his own desires. In his quest to quench his carnal thirst, he neglected to give proper respect to the Lady Aphea or her Lord Priape. He took what he desired and ravished the fertile fields with reckless abandon, paying no heed to honor and tradition._

_Until the dark one herself, Epithuma, crossed his carnal path._

_She whispered licentious promises of sin and debauchery into his ear and through them took hold of his lecherous soul. Few is the pious one who can resist the dark one’s wanton charms._

_In the morning light, he was found as these types often are. His trousers round his ankles with holes where there were once eyes._

_For no one may look upon the face of Epithuma lest her spear run through his head, not once, but twice._

_Do heed these words, lascivious youth, lest you also run afoul of the dark seductress’ wrath.”_

Ed drops the book on the desk and leans back in the chair. A dark female figure who uses a spear to kill? It could easily be the homunculus Mustang torched. Wasn’t her name Lust? It fits more than he expected. Granted the “cautionary tale” was probably just like the ones he heard about the “Beasts of Dublith” eating disobedient children. People who believe in ridiculous things like gods and monsters could easily come up with this legend if the victim was a lecherous pig seen with a beautiful woman around the time of these fertility festivals. The real question would be why the homunculus would kill the man in the first place, but that important detail is probably lost to history.

Ed scowls at the book and shakes his head. This research is going to be just as frustrating as the damn stone. Legends never give you the information you want. It’s all about morals and ridiculous codes of honor that mean nothing. So many people let themselves be led around by the nose and he doesn’t get it. Why are people so stupid? He looks back to the book and shrugs off his irritation because from what he knows of Lust this fits. He just wishes it were a story about one they didn’t already kill, but at least it’s a start. He reaches for the book and pulls it into his lap to sift through it some more.

The next few pages seem to only talk about the timing and symbolism of the festivals. He skips past the meaningless babble and flips to a section that looks like replicas of old paintings and drawings. The first few panels depict fire dances with people moving in a choreographed fashion and he’s reminded of Mustang’s Tai Chi and how fluidly he moved from one position to the next. He could easily imagine him doing that at night with fire in his hands even though he knows it would be absurd. Ed flips to the next page to find sketches of naked dancers and his mind immediately takes the leap of substituting Mustang’s form in for the darker skinned ones.

He stares at the large bonfire behind the dancer and his breath quickens as he imagines Mustang’s pale skin illuminated by the flickering flame. His skin would almost seem to glow and shimmer with a light sheen of sweat coating his toned muscles. The dancing shadows would caress his frame like the hands of a dark lover and he’d stay just out of reach. Ed’s heart pounds and as his pants get tighter he realizes what the hell he’s doing. He gasps and quickly flips several pages but the image he comes to makes it even worse. It’s a depiction of Priape. Wearing nearly nothing. Exposing a ridiculously massive and erect penis.

And all he can see is Mustang’s face.

Fuck! Shit! Ed slams the book closed and jumps up from the desk. He takes several steps back but suddenly he sees Mustang everywhere. He sees him on the couch and remembers the taste of his kiss. He sees him out of breath by the chair. He sees him at his desk wetting his lips as he reads something with intense focus. He sees him lounging by an imaginary fire with a distinct lack of clothes and he has to get the hell out of here.

NOW!

He spins around and bolts for the library door. He has more research to do but right now he needs a damn break…or a cold shower. Or something! Ed closes the library door behind him then quickly locks it with the key. He turns to the hall table and somehow putting the key in plain sight doesn’t seem right. He looks around desperately then finally opts for putting the key under the key bowl. He glances to the door and suddenly knows he can’t go back to the hotel yet, not while he’s still this wound up. Al would know something was up and he’s _not_ having that conversation.

He steps out onto the porch and it’s only when he closes the door he realizes he has no way to lock it. Stupid Mustang. What’s he supposed to do? He clenches his jaw and looks around. It seems like a nice enough neighborhood, but he doesn’t want to be the one responsible if something happens. He weighs his options for another breath then claps his hands together and seals the door with alchemy. He can come back later and fix it. If not, Mustang’s enough of a damn alchemist that he can fix it himself. Right now he just needs to go.

~*~*~*~

He made it all the way to the café a few blocks away before the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread drew him in for an early lunch. This time he finally noticed the name of the place: Café du Centre. He’s not sure where they speak whatever language the name is in, but if they all make bread this good he’d like to go there. He ended up trying the sandwich they said was Mustang’s favorite and he was actually surprised at how good it was. Stupid bastard. Does he have to be right about everything?

Ed contented himself with a strong coffee that seemed a bit too strong for the delicate, fresh bread but he didn’t care. At least it was something _normal_. He hasn’t had much in the way of normal lately. He was planning on heading back to the hotel to talk with Al for a while when he caught sight of an older man sitting on the patio smoking cigarettes with his coffee. That got him thinking about the way Havoc would always be doing that when he would come in to see Mustang in the morning and how he’d always smile and say “Mornin’, Boss.”

He’s never understood that. Sure he outranks him, but they all know that’s only because of his alchemy. It’s no reason for him to call him “boss.” The first time he did it he was certain Havoc was mocking him. But over time he’s never seen any maliciousness in his eyes no matter how many glares Ed’s given him. If anything he just seemed to be nicer and that’s why he’s headed to the Central Military Hospital with a full pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

It’s probably not the best gift for someone in the hospital, but considering it’s the only thing he knows about Lieutenant Havoc he went with it. Though, now that he’s getting closer to the hospital he’s having second thoughts. What if he doesn’t want to see him? What if he got the wrong brand of cigarettes? He looks over to the center of the road and one of the openings to the waterway below. He seriously considers running over there and tossing the whole pack then heading back to the hotel. But he’s come this far, he might as well at least say hi.

Ed turns off the southwest central spoke street and into the park near the hospital. He avoids the paths and instead walks across the grass and through the trees. It’s getting warmer every day and it’s nice to get in the shade, not to mention he’d rather take a direct path instead of the trails that wind around the park pond. His footsteps grow slower and more shuffling the nearer he gets to the hospital, but he won’t turn away. The more he’s thought about it the more he knows Havoc’s always been nice to him and the least he can do is let him know he cares.

He steps out onto the path up to the hospital about halfway up and shoves his hands in his pockets. He curls his fingers around the unopened pack of cigarettes and hopes he doesn’t seem silly for bringing them. He knows it’ll make him look cliché that the only thing he knows about him is that he smokes, but at least it’s something, right? Ed chews his lip as he reaches the front hospital stairs and takes each step deliberately. He’s trying to work better with Mustang, not his subordinates. He doesn’t want to involve anyone else, but considering Havoc’s already been injured by a homunculus Ed probably pissed off this is kinda his fault anyway. What if Havoc’s mad at him?

He nearly turns away the instant he reaches the front doors. But then a large woman with a kind face holds the door open for him as she’s leaving. He gives her a tight smile and shuffles inside not wanting to be rude. He takes a few steps into the foyer, scuffing his boots over the polished floors, and stares at the nurses’ station. Maybe it’ll be like the last time and they won’t let him in. He stands up a bit straighter at the thought. Yeah, that’s probably what’ll happen. Then he can say he tried and wasn’t able to. He can even blame Mustang for it!

With a satisfied look on his face and renewed determination, he stalks over to the nurses’ station actually pleased to see the one who gave him a hard time before behind the desk. If he hadn’t had Falman’s help she never would’ve let him see Mustang. Perfect. There’s no way she’ll let him back there now. His confidence growing he reaches up to rest his arm on the high counter and gives the nurse a smug look.

“Hey, yeah, I’m here to see Lieutenant Havoc. Could you tell me his room?” The dark haired nurse turns a bored look on him and he smirks a little more when she recognizes him. Her face hardens and he relaxes under her annoyed look. This is going to be perfect.

“One moment, Major. Let me see if you’re on the list.” She turns to shift through some folders on her desk and Ed’s nearly bouncing on his feet. When he goes back to Mustang’s tonight, he’ll be able to throw it in his face how he wants to work with him and doesn’t treat him like a member of his—“Okay, here it is, Major Elric. The Lieutenant’s in room 33. Just sign here and you can go back.”

Ed blinks as the nurse shoves a pen and clipboard his direction. He picks up the pen when she gives him a hard look and scribbles his name down before he can even think about it. As soon as she snatches it away, he finally finds his voice. “Um, wait. Are you sure I was on the list? I mean….”

“Yes, I’m sure, Major.” The nurse lets out an annoyed sigh as she picks up the original folder again. “It says right here you’re listed under the approved names as per Colonel Mustang.”

Seriously? Mustang actually put _his name_ on a damn _list_? He blinks in stunned surprise again then nods. He’s not sure if he should be grateful or pissed as he turns from the desk and down the hall toward Havoc’s room. He doesn’t see much of anything as he makes his way down the hall because he can’t stop wondering if he should even be here. Obviously Mustang thinks he does, but why? Does it all go along with the weirdness that’s been Mustang lately? He has no idea but before he knows it he’s standing before the door with a 33 on it.

On some level he knows he’s being stupid. He just wishes he’d gone and got Al to come with him or that Hawkeye were outside the door or something. She’d let him know if it was okay with a single look. To be honest, she’d probably tell him Havoc didn’t need to be disturbed and he’d be fine with it. Now he’s here and he doesn’t know if the Lieutenant’s awake and he doesn’t want to be the one to—

The door suddenly opens and he barely has a chance to step out of the way before Lieutenant Breda runs into him. Breda stops short and Ed doesn’t miss the look of surprise that flashes over his face. That’s good enough for him. He can just go. But then Breda’s look turns into a grin and he calls out over his shoulder through the half open door behind him. “Hey, Jean, looks like you got another visitor to keep you company while I get lunch. Be nice.”

“If it’s Falman, tell him no thanks! I don’t need any damn paperwork updates! And if it’s Hawkeye….” Whatever else is said seems to be muffled and Ed doesn’t catch it. Havoc’s obviously awake though and he knows he’s here. Shit, why can’t Lieutenant Breda stay so he’s not alone?

“Hey, um, Lieutenant,” Ed hazards as Breda turns back from saying something else to Havoc. The door nearly closes behind him and he turns all his attention to Ed, the amusement of whatever Havoc said still on his face. “If you’d like, I could go get you some lunch. You know…so you don’t have to leave? I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t think of it!” Breda smiles and taps him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you here, Ed. Jean’s having a better day than yesterday. Go on in.” He nods at Ed again then gives him a gentle shove toward the door. Ed has no choice but to follow and before he knows it the door closes behind him and he’s face to face with the Lieutenant and no one else.

Havoc’s mostly sitting up in bed, completely propped up on pillows, and as soon as he sees Ed he reaches over to the nightstand on his right for what looks to be a lighter. He gives Ed a nod then turns it over in his hand and Ed gets the feeling he’s missing something, but he has no idea what. Havoc tilts his head at him expectantly and Ed can only shift on his feet. Is he supposed to do something? Should he salute? He has no idea and can only manage a weak, “Hey.”

“Heya, Boss. How’s it going?” Havoc gives him that look again and Ed rubs the back of his head. What’s he missing? Havoc stares at him a moment longer before a grin breaks out on his face. Is he laughing at him? Ed frowns and that only seems to make Havoc’s smile grow. “He didn’t tell ya, did he?” Havoc chuckles and sets the lighter back on the side table. “Probably knew no one would dare try to imitate you. Too unpredictable.”

“Huh?” Ed blinks and takes a step closer to the bed. What is he talking about? Imitate him? Was Lieutenant Breda supposed to tell him something? No, the “him” has to be Mustang. Ed scowls deeply. Apparently he’s still out of the loop about something. He fingers the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and just barely keeps from crushing them. “What did the bastard not tell me this time?”

Havocs laughs but immediately cuts it short and Ed can tell it’s causing him pain. But discomfort or not, it does nothing to diminish the smile on Havoc’s face. “You know I always liked that about you, Boss. Never afraid to say what you’re thinkin’.”

Ed shakes his head because that’s not an answer. He really shouldn’t be getting frustrated at a man in the hospital but he’s getting that way fast. Havoc’s still looking at him with amusement and Ed huffs at him. “Why do you do that, anyway?” Havoc frowns in question and Ed pulls his right hand out of his pocket to motion with it. “You know, call me ‘Boss.’ I’m not your boss.”

Havoc holds his gaze for a moment then shrugs slightly and leans back on the pillows a little more. “I dunno. Guess I just figured someone should.” He rolls his head across the pillows to look back at Ed again and Ed can see he’s not doing quite as well as he’s pretending he is. “Does it bother you?”

Well it did when he thought he was mocking him, but now…. “Nah, not really. I was just wondering.” He pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his left pocket and closes the distance between himself and the side of the bed. He holds out the pack and shrugs. “I dunno if these are even the right ones or if you can have them, but….”

“Ah! Ed, that’s awesome!” He reaches out quickly, wincing as he does, but the eager look in his eyes shows he doesn’t care. He snatches the pack out of Ed’s hand and nods. “Oh yeah, these’ll do. The Chief said he’d talk to the nurses, but they aren’t too keen on letting me have these.” He tears open the pack and then brings the whole thing up to his face and takes a deep breath. The look he makes is one of sheer delight and Ed can’t help but smile in response. Havoc turns his attention to Ed again then nods at the door. “You mind lockin’ that for me?”

“Nope. Not as long as you tell me what the Colonel didn’t.” Ed arches an eyebrow in question but turns toward the door all the same. Havoc nods at him and Ed flips the lock on the door.

“I guess that’s fair enough. You oughta know anyway.” Havoc reaches for the lighter and an empty cup beside him then nods to the chair on his left. Ed takes the seat with only a little hesitation then watches as Havoc pulls out a cigarette from the pack and brings it to his lips. His eyes close as he lights it and bliss spreads out over his features as he inhales. Ed’s never understood the appeal of smoking, but it’s obviously something that brings the Lieutenant a great deal of happiness and right now he sees no reason to deprive him. “Alright, so, you know about the crazy bitch that maimed me, right?”

“Yeah, Al told me about it.” Ed watches Havoc blow out a long stream of smoke and he’s thankful he does it in the opposite direction. “Seems like her name was Lust.”

“Ahhhh, Lust.” Havoc shakes his head then brings the cigarette to his lips for another slow drag. “Yeah, that fits. Shoulda seen past those….” He shakes his head again then taps the ash from his cigarette into the cup. “Anyway, there’s another one of those creatures that can apparently look like other people.”

“Yeah, Envy.” Ed nods then tilts his head when Havoc gives him a curious look. Did he say something wrong? Sure, it’s probably true they shouldn’t be discussing this here, but the Lieutenant doesn’t seem overly concerned. He probably thinks he’s not worth listening in on. It could be true, but it’s hard to know anything for sure anymore. Havoc’s look turns thoughtful and Ed loses his already short patience. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering….” He takes another pull on his cigarette then frowns at it probably because it’s mostly gone. He taps the ash off again and Ed has to wonder if he’s always this slow at getting to the point. “Are all their names vices?”

“Are they all…what?” Ed scrunches up his face because aren’t vices usually tied to religious things? He doesn’t know much about that and he doesn’t really want to. Sure reading about those festivals was interesting, but it’s all nonsense. Havoc gives him a look like he’s grown a second head and he shrugs at him. “I dunno. What do you mean by vices?”

“Well, you know.” Ed looks at him blankly and Havoc flicks the ash off his cigarette then takes one final drag before crushing it out in the cup. “It’s like those sins. There’s a list of them or something. You know, lust, gluttony, greed.” He tilts his head back against the pillows and looks upward. “Envy is one I’m pretty sure. There are more…maybe three or two?” He scratches the side of his neck then turns to look at Ed again. “Maybe look that up? I mean…if you think it’s anything.” He shrugs then glances down at the bed. “I dunno, just a thought when you mentioned the other two. It’s probably nothin’.”

“No, don’t say that.” Havoc turns his eyes up slightly to look at Ed but he doesn’t seem convinced. “Seriously. We don’t know anything about these guys and you could be right. It’s not something I would’ve thought of and I bet Mustang wouldn’t have either.” Havoc lifts his head and smiles slightly. He still looks a little doubtful and Ed wonders if he’s not usually listened to in matters like this. “I’ll look into it, but tell me, is it a religious thing or something?”

“Yeah, I think so. Seems like there were vices and maybe virtues too?” Havoc looks toward the ceiling and Ed’s intrigued. Would these monsters really be named for “sins” and if so, why? “There used to be an old guy who came into my parents’ store when I was a kid. He’d talk about things like that. Most people didn’t pay him no mind but I always found him interesting.”

Ed grins at the thought of a young Havoc listening to stories and it’s only then he realizes he doesn’t really know anything about him. He leans forward slightly, forearms on his thighs and wonders if it’s pushing too much to ask. Havoc doesn’t seem to mind talking about his past so far and he can always say no. Decision made Ed takes a breath and asks, “Where did you grow up? Did you spend a lot of time in your parents’ store?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nods and his smile from before returns but this time even broader. “I’m from a little town near the border in the East, a little north of East City.” He chuckles then sets the cup filled with ash and his lighter aside. The cigarettes, however, he shoves under one of his pillows. “Yeah, it was kinda in the middle of nowhere. Little farm community. Momma and Daddy run the general store out there. Have a little bit of everything.”

It’s only as he’s nodding that he realizes that statement wasn’t in the past tense. He tilts his head and toys with the cuff of his sleeve. “You said ‘run.’ Do they still have the store?”

“Yup, Still the best one around too.” He smiles with pride and sits up a little straighter against the pillows. “To be honest, that’s where I’d be if I weren’t in the military.” He glances down towards his legs then reaches for his cigarettes again. He lights one with practiced efficiency and shrugs. “I’m sure they’ll take me back. They can always use the help.”

“Back?” Ed sits bolt upright in his chair. Is Havoc leaving the military? No, that’s not fair! He’s just getting to know him. “What are you talking about? You’ll heal up soon enough, right? I know the bastard’ll still want you here. What do you—”

“Still can’t feel my legs, Boss.” Havoc’s entire countenance deflates right before Ed’s eyes and for the first time since he walked in Havoc looks defeated. His blue eyes turn flat and he fists his free hand in the sheets. “Pretty shitty I’ve got so much pain in my back with no feelin’ below the waist.” He looks toward the window and his voice sounds as hopeless as anyone Ed’s ever heard. “The Colonel doesn’t need a pawn that can’t move. I’m useless to him now. Might as well go back home.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Ed leans forward and opens his automail hand to catch the ash that falls from Havoc’s cigarette. Havoc turns to look at him, surprise evident on his face. “Mustang wouldn’t give up on you, and even if he did, you shouldn’t be giving up on yourself.” Havoc shakes his head and Ed’s face turns stony with resolve. “Don’t give me that shit. I have a brother who’s made of metal and you don’t see us giving up. You just have to move forward despite the shit life throws your way.”

“But the work I need to do requires legs and—”

“And I don’t care.” Havoc blinks in surprise then reaches over for the cup he used as an ashtray before. Ed dumps the ashes in his hand into it then sits back in his chair. “Are the doctors even sure it’s permanent?” Havoc reluctantly shakes his head and Ed presses his palms on his knees. “Even if they did, it doesn’t matter.” Havoc gives him a puzzled look and he shrugs. “I know someone who does medical alchemy with a Philosopher’s Stone. He can fix you, and if not, the rest of us will figure out something.” Ed locks his eyes with Havoc’s and gives him his most determined look. “Don’t you quit. I kinda like having a friend here who doesn’t annoy me and I don’t wanna have to chase you all the way back to the East.”

The corner of Havoc’s mouth turns up and he takes a drag of the mostly burned up cigarette. “So we’re friends now, huh?” Ed can hear the amusement in his voice, but it’s not mocking. He can tell he’s teasing and Ed goes right along with it.

“Yeah, and even if not, you called me ‘Boss,’ right? Well, as a boss, I’m telling you not to give up.” Havoc’s smile grows and that flat, glassy look thankfully fades from his eyes. “You got that, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, Boss. I think so?” He finishes off the last of his smoke then hides the pack away the same as before. “You know, you might just have to keep comin’ by to remind me though. All these painkillers are doing horrible things to my memory.”

Ed’s eyes widen at the open invitation and he nods mutely. Sure they’re getting along, but he really didn’t expect Havoc to invite him back. He threw out the “friend” and “boss” cards just to try and get him to keep from giving up. He didn’t expect him to actually agree. Ed smiles and ducks his head slightly. He’s not used to getting along with anyone but Al and it’s kinda nice to think he has a new friend. “I guess I’ll just have to do that then.”

Havoc nods once as if that settled everything then relaxes back into the pillows more. He looks tired, and Ed can tell he’s hurting from the tension in his face. He should probably take the opportunity to go. He puts his hands on the arms of the chair to push himself up but only makes it halfway to his feet before Havoc starts talking again.

“You grew up in the East too, didn’t ya?” Havoc turns his eyes to look at him and Ed nods. “So you know what it’s like to grow up in the middle of nowhere too, right?” A tired smile curls Havoc’s lips and Ed drops back down into his chair. “Did you have harvest fair days? With the whole festival and stupid games and everything?”

“Ummm, yeah. We did.” Ed can tell Havoc’s tired but he can also read the hopeful look in his eyes. He understands it because he’s been in the same place before. Sometimes it’s just nice to…think about happier times. He doesn’t have many in his life, but how many times have he and Al done this exact thing when things have gotten tough? “Al was always better at them than I was, though. That stupid egg, spoon, carry relay thing always kicked my butt.”

Havoc’s eyes seem to sparkle with life at Ed’s words and he grins weakly. “At least you didn’t get tied to your sister who’s half your size for the three legged race!” Ed makes a face at the short comment and Havoc chuckles lightly. “Oh come on, I couldn’t even take a full stride! It wasn’t fair.”

“Being short isn’t fair either! You shouldn’t pick on people for that. It’s just rude.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a shrimp.”

“Hey! Don’t make me tell the nurse where you hide your cigarettes!”

“I’ll just tell her you brought them.”

“Hey!”

Ed smiles at the easy banter and quietly curses to himself. Apparently the bastard was right again, though he’s not going to give him all the credit. He’s going to let Havoc have most of it. He just has to wonder why it took him so long to do this. It’s not easy to open up, but sometimes…it’s not half bad either.


	9. Chapter 9

Ed didn’t intend to spend all day with Havoc. When the nurse came and banged on the door to give him his meds Ed was certain he’d be thrown out. But then Breda showed up and convinced her that the most important thing in cases like this is to keep the patient upbeat and that Ed was doing that. There was more logic that Ed didn’t really follow—he doesn’t think the nurse did either—but Breda was so convincing that they all had to agree. Thinking about it now, he almost has to wonder if that’s one of the reasons Mustang likes having Breda around.

Still, he didn’t plan on staying almost all day. But it was actually…fun. Havoc’s really pretty funny and even funnier when Breda’s around with all their bantering. Ed still doesn’t know why Breda was so endlessly amused by their stories about growing up “in the sticks” as he called it. Maybe it was because he was a “city boy” like Havoc said. Either way it was nice and for once he actually felt like he belonged. Now though, he’d like to get back to work and maybe look up those vices Havoc was talking about. That’s why he’s heading to Mustang’s office to see if he’s done yet so he can fill him in too.

It’s not a long walk from the hospital to Mustang’s offices so he figured he’d try there first before walking all the way back to his house. Who knows, maybe he can even get a ride. Ed strolls through the park and for once he’s glad he doesn’t have his coat. It’s an unseasonably hot summer day, especially for Central where it never seems to get very hot. It looks like it’s going to be a warmer summer than usual. At least it’s still cooling off in the evenings considering Ling and Lan Fan don’t seem to know how to use a door.

Ed speeds up his step when he catches sight of the South Gate Command Center. He’s still not sure how Mustang ended up transferred here with all of his men, but considering how he always seems to find a way to get what he wants it’s not that much of a surprise. He jogs up the front marble steps and heads inside. Cool air greets him and he makes his way to the main staircase and up to the third floor. The stairs are never crowded and Ed snorts at the laziness of most people. He heads down the wide hallway to Mustang’s large main office.

He sees a few soldiers he doesn’t know and he breezes right past them. Sergeant Fury smiles at him and unlike usual he takes the time to smile back. Ed doesn’t see Mustang or Hawkeye at his desk and he wonders if he’s in a meeting or in his private office. He turns to walk over to Fuery and as he does Fuery stops fiddling with the radio on his desk and deliberately reaches up to adjust his glasses. Havoc told him Mustang gave them all cues to let each other know they’re who they appear to be. Havoc’s was to play with his lighter and Fuery’s was to mess with his glasses. Ed’s still annoyed he was left out of the loop but he nods to Fuery just the same in acknowledgement.

“Hey Sergeant, where’s Mustang?” Ed tilts his head toward the empty desk then glances toward the door to his private office. “He hiding out in there?” He looks back at Fuery who’s no longer looking at him. If anything he almost looks like he’s trying _not_ to look at him. Is he missing something?

“Mustang? Oh, well, actually, you see….” Fuery reaches out to pick up a small wire on his desk and he bends it back and forth in his hands. It reminds him of something Al would do when they were caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do when they were kids. “The Colonel’s, ummm….”

“The Colonel is out of the office for the rest of the day, sir.” Ed glances up when Falman walks over to stand by Fuery’s desk. Ed frowns because there’s obviously something else going on here. He looks over to the closed door of Mustang’s private office and considers going over and busting in anyway. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen his men try to cover for him. Bastard is probably just trying to take a nap or something.

“Oh, he’s out of the office alright. Out on a date.” Ed starts at the unfamiliar voice behind him and he spins around to see the two officers he didn’t recognize grinning and nodding at each other at their shared work table. Ed hears Falman trying to get his attention but he ignores him and takes a step toward the other officers.

“Is that true?” They both look at him and one nudges the other, obviously urging him to answer.

“Ahh, yes, sir.” The corporal nods then smirks at his compatriot before turning his attention back to Ed. “He bolted out of here right after sending Lieutenant Hawkeye out on an errand.” He shoots Ed a knowing look before looking directly back at his buddy. “Yeah, must be nice being a colonel.”

“I see.” Ed narrows his eyes and fists his hands at his sides. He had a busy day at work, did he? Right. Stupid bastard lied to him. He probably just wanted to get out of sparring and make him feel bad for being late. He should’ve known he was full of shit. That was probably all an act too. “Lying bastard,” he curses then turns on his heel for the door.

“Major Elric, sir….”

Falman’s words echo after him but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to listen to any more lies. That stupid bastard is going to pay for making him feel like a fool. Asshole talks about “mutual understandings” and trust and all he does is lie and deceive. Ed clenches his fists even tighter. He was probably lying about the kiss too. But why? Why would he say it wasn’t bad then act all mortified at the thought of doing it again? And to think he _almost_ felt bad for accusing Mustang of being easy when he looked all wounded at his comment. He was probably just brushing him off for some stupid date. Fucking bastard. He’s gonna pay for this.

Ed stomps down the hall then storms down the stairs, barely aware of the people who give him a wide berth. He doesn’t care about anyone else. All he cares about is that stupid, lying bastard. He stalks out of the Command Center and squints against the bright sunlight. He should just go back to the hotel and let the asshole figure out how to get back into his house on his own. He jogs down the stairs into the park and turns for the hotel but only makes it a few strides. He needs Mustang’s fucking library and if he goes back now Al will ask why…and he’s not going into it.

Ed snarls under his breath then spins around and takes off in the direction of Mustang’s house. He cuts through the park then slips out around the Investigations building to the main streets. He and Al have spent so much time in this stupid city over the years he knows many of the best shortcuts. He cuts through an alley on the way to another main street and scowls when he recognizes the dark scorch mark marring the stone path. Fucking bastard. That was another time he lied right to his damn face. He can almost see the smug look on his face and feel the sting of his fist against his jaw.

“Bastard!” he snarls and spin kicks the battered dumpster against the side of the alley with his automail leg. The metal scrapes against the stone as it’s shoved away from the wall and Ed shakes his head at the deep dent. At least no one should care too much about a dumpster. He moves toward it to attempt to shove it back in place when he sees a dim light coming from behind it. He scowls then leans against the wall to get a closer look, his face pressed to the grimy stone.

There’s a hole cut right into the side of the building. Ed’s eyes narrow as he realizes this must be how they got Maria Ross out of the alley. Breda told him the plan, just not every detail. He feels his blood boil at the evidence that was right in front of his eyes all along. How many other things has Mustang deceived him with when the truth was right in plain sight? Is this whole sharing his library and home with him just a cover for something else? He shoves the dumpster back into place with his right hand then storms through the alley. So far he’s been nice and hasn’t snooped around Mustang’s house more than in the library. It’s time that changed.

Ed steps out of the alley and turns to head up Wichita Street. In another few blocks he can cut through two more alleys and—holy shit. There’s no way. Ed hurries forward then ducks behind a newsstand. He peeks around and sure enough that’s the bastard’s car parked in front of a florist’s shop. He scowls at the fact this was one of the “important” things Mustang had to do today. He considers going in to confront him but then remembers all the times Mustang always knew what he did or didn’t do without his telling him. Maybe it’s his turn to do a little reconnaissance.

“Hey, kid. You gonna buy something or what?”

“I’m not a—” Ed whips around to face the owner of the newsstand. He’s about to explain to the idiot that he’s not the size of a damn bean when he remembers Mustang’s in the flower shop. If he starts yelling out here there’s no doubt the bastard will know it’s him. He just has a way of doing that. It’s not easy, but he does manage to swallow his words and reach in his pocket for twenty five cens. “Yeah, sure. Here.” He hands over the change and snatches up a newspaper which he unfolds and holds it up so he can move a little closer without being seen.

It’s only another minute before Mustang comes out with a handful of red and yellow flowers. He’s out of uniform too and Ed has to wonder where he changed. Does he store “date clothes” at the office? Probably so considering what a player he obviously is. He’s probably ready to sneak out at a moment’s notice. Mustang gets in his car and Ed grimaces. Depending on how far he goes he may not be able to keep up with him. But that doesn’t mean he can’t try. He tucks the newspaper under his arm when Mustang pulls away from the street and runs after him. He does know all the alleyways in this town and if he can just keep an eye on him he can probably keep up.

Ed chases him a few blocks before he can tell he’s slowing down to turn. Ed ducks into an alley and jumps over some scattered piles of rubbish. There’s a fence at the back of the building he’s running by and he puts the newspaper in his teeth as he quickly scales it and jumps over to the other side. Good thing in all these years he’s gotten used to dealing with a wide variety of obstacles. He weaves his way through some bystanders at the mouth of the alley and grins when he catches sight of Mustang’s car. That’s right, bastard. You can’t get away from me. Ed chases him several more streets then nearly trips over himself when the car all but comes to a stop. He dives behind a set of low bushes, wincing as he slams forward into them, and pants to catch his breath before peeking over the shrubbery.

Mustang’s stopped the car and it’s only when he looks at the building behind him that he realizes this must be his destination. It’s one of those stupid fancy restaurants that Winry’s always wanted to try. He just never saw the point. Why pay five times more than you should for a stupid meal? It’s stupid and exactly something Colonel Shit would do. He peers over the bushes again to see him, flowers in hand, talking to a parking attendant by his car.

“Excuse me, sir. May I help you?”

“Shhhhht!” Ed jerks his head to look up at the snooty looking guy with an accent he doesn’t recognize who apparently works at the restaurant. He shakes his head and tries to shoo him away as he returns his gaze to Mustang who’s handing over his keys. “No. I’m fine. Go away.”

“I’m sorry, _sir_ , but I can’t do that.” Ed snarls and glares up at the man who’s surprisingly unfazed by his venom. “We have a strict policy against people skulking around in the shrubbery.”

“I’m not—” He cuts off his impending tirade when he sees Mustang coming toward the front of the restaurant. “Alright, alright, gimmie a sec, okay? I dropped something.” Ed ducks even more and pretends to search around for something in the shadows between the restaurant and the bushes. He hears the man huff then turns his attention to Mustang. Ed just hopes he’s enough out of sight.

“Good evening, Colonel Mustang. I assume you’ll be taking your usual table?”

Usual table? What the hell? Is it a usual date as well, or is this just where he takes all of them? Ed peers carefully toward them but he can’t see around the host’s legs without making himself seen.

“Yes, thank you, Armando. Actually, you could do something else for me as well….”

But whatever that something is Ed has no idea because they both walk into the damn restaurant. He waits for them to get completely inside then carefully moves to his feet. He can see through a large glass window on the other side of the door and he pulls out his newspaper as he crosses over to that side of the building front. There’s a bench not too far away and if he sits just right he should be able to see inside. He makes his way over to it and once he gets situated he sees Mustang sitting at a table that’s not too far from the large front window. He snorts because he would’ve thought the bastard wouldn’t want to be seen so easily. What happens if one of his previous conquests sees him with another?

Ed shakes his head and tries to get comfortable on the hard, wooden bench. You would think after years of traveling on those hard train seats they’d all feel the same. He’s twisted around to see through the window and it’s definitely not the most comfortable position. But at least he’ll be able to see exactly how the manipulating bastard operates. Maybe he can even use it against him. He fidgets as he watches him order something from a waiter that looks as stuffy as the host. Why doesn’t it surprise him that this would be Colonel Shit’s type of place? Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait long before a beautiful young brunette woman is led over to his table.

Ed leans over the back of the bench to get a better look and sees Mustang stand as the woman reaches his side. He hands her flowers and Ed squints as she picks the card from the bouquet and slips it into her purse. Why wouldn’t she read it? And why would he even bother with a card anyway? She smiles at Mustang and gives him a hug before sitting across from him. What, no kiss? He would’ve thought the bastard would at least kiss her cheek or something. Weird. Ed slouches down on the bench to watch the scene and one thing becomes immediately apparent even from this distance.

Something’s off.

He’s not sure what it is because it’s not like he really has any experience with dates. But after a while it hits him. The bastard is still being…bastardy. It’s nothing blatant. He seems to be chatting away and charming the lady with his smile and who knows what else. But it’s the rest of him that doesn’t fit. He can’t really see his eyes from this distance, but he doesn’t have to. He knows this bastard far too well to tell he’s not acting the way he should. He looks all business, as if he were having a dinner with his subordinates or something. Shouldn’t he look different on a date? Is he that damn weird?

Ed watches the rest of the meal and it’s beyond boring. Mustang pours wine, they laugh, and eat some sort of pasta that makes his stomach grumble. It all seems exceedingly lame and stupidly normal, but he still can’t shake the feeling something’s off about the whole thing. Maybe he’s just seeing what he wants to see. Maybe this is just how old people act when they go out like this. If so he’s pretty sure he’s not even remotely interested.

Finally the dinner seems to be wrapping up and Ed covers a yawn with the back of his hand. Why did he think this would be a good idea? He was certain he’d see something he could use against the Colonel, but so far this all seems like a damn waste of time. He’s about to stretch his arms over his head when Mustang stands and goes over to pull out the brunette’s chair. She stands and gives Mustang another hug. It’s all perfectly mundane and surprisingly chaste considering his reputa—

Hold on a minute.

Ed leans over the back of the bench because he could swear she just stuck her hand in Mustang’s coat pocket when they hugged. What the hell? Did the bitch just steal his wallet? Ed tosses the paper on the bench beside him as they pull apart. Could Mustang be the one being played here? Wait, no, now he’s pulling out his wallet. Ed shakes his head as Mustang leaves money on the table then offers his arm to the woman. That should all be normal, but why does it feel so off?

The couple heads for the front of the restaurant and Ed looks around to find cover. The sun’s going down and there are more shadows against the building but not enough to actually hide in. He scrambles off the bench and snatches up the paper again. He runs over to the far corner of the building and leans against it, hiding behind the raised paper again. He peeks over it to see Mustang and the woman heading over to his car and he frowns when he sees Mustang carrying a bag. Where did that come from? He didn’t have that before. He watches them get in then raises the paper higher when the car finally pulls away from the curb and drives off. He’s not sure where they’re going and he doubts he wants to know. The only problem now is he’s not sure where to go.

He stares at Mustang’s taillights fading in the distance and shrugs. Well, he does still need to fix the bastard’s door. Considering what he’s heard about dates like this, he’ll probably have awhile until Mustang gets back to the house. Unless…. Ed makes a face as he pushes off the wall and heads down the street. What if he’s taking her back to his house? What if that’s where he always does whatever he does? Ed shudders. He slept in the bastard’s bed. At least he had his clothes on! He keeps walking until he makes it to Venice Avenue and he finally has to make a decision: go back to Mustang’s house or head to the hotel.

Ed folds up the paper he’s still carrying and tosses it on a bench as he passes by. He has no desire to walk in on one of Mustang’s “conquests,” but shouldn’t Mustang be expecting him to still be at his house? He told him he could stay as long as he liked. Would he actually bring a woman back there to kick him out? Ed tilts his head in thought and in only a moment his decision’s made. If he knows anything about Mustang, it’s that he’s never careless. They must be going somewhere else. Ed turns left on Venice Avenue and heads back to Columbus Street.

It’s not too far of a walk from here and along the way Ed can’t help but think about the “date” he watched. He’s not sure why, but it felt like he was missing something the whole time. Maybe if he could’ve heard what they were saying it might’ve made more sense. But as he remembers the stock smile on Mustang’s face and how the woman seemed to laugh at everything he said Ed tends to doubt the conversation was very meaningful. Are all dates so stupid?

He kicks at a stray rock on the sidewalk and remembers that first time in Mustang’s kitchen when he finally saw him as something other than Colonel Shit. There was something completely different about him then and he’s seen it more than once, but only in his house. He’d have thought that would be the guy in the restaurant with a pretty lady, but that’s not what he saw. At least, he doesn’t think it was. Maybe he’s imagining things. It’s not like he’s seen that new side of Mustang very many times.

It’s the scent of fresh bread that finally brings him out of his thoughts and he’s surprised to see he’s already made it to the café near Mustang’s house. The sun has fallen beyond the horizon and for the first time Ed notices tiny white lights in the trees around and in the outside part of the café. The strings of lights wrap up the trunks and wind through the long branches that overhang the café and shade the outside sitting area during the day. At night he can tell they’ll fill the area with a soft, twinkling glow. A few patrons are already sitting outside under the natural canopy of leaves enjoying the rapidly cooling evening. It looks like a nice place to be.

But he doesn’t have time for that right now. Maybe he’ll stop back by and get some food after he gets Mustang’s door unfused. His stomach grumbles at the enticing scents in the air as food is brought out to the customers and he has to force himself to keep moving. Stupid Mustang. Somehow that bastard can always find a way to ruin his day even when he’s not around. Ed turns away from the promise of food reluctantly and continues to make his way down the street. It’s only a few more minutes until he reaches the front of Mustang’s house and what he sees stops him in his tracks.

What the hell? How did Mustang beat him back? Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be off with that woman doing whatever it is older people do after boring dinners that he doesn’t want to think about? Ed frowns and takes a few steps up the path to the front door. Mustang’s standing on the porch staring at the alchemically fused front door with his back to him. He has the bag from the restaurant in his left hand and Ed’s surprised he hasn’t turned around yet. He has to hear him by now.

“So, Fullmetal, are you going to tell me why my door is fused into the wall?” Mustang still doesn’t turn around and that in itself puts Ed on edge. Couple it with the fact he’s calling him “Fullmetal” it probably means he’s dealing with Colonel Shit. Great. Just what he was hoping for.

“Because you didn’t give me a key to the door and I didn’t want to be responsible.” Ed stops a pace away from the porch steps and crosses his arms. He doesn’t particularly like having a conversation with Mustang’s back but at least he won’t be able to complain about—

“Did you ever consider just locking the doorknob from the inside?”

Ed blinks at the simplicity of the statement and he grinds his teeth because, no, that hadn’t crossed his mind. He didn’t even look to see if it had a lock. And why does it matter? It’s not like he can’t just clap his hands together and fix it. He takes a step forward to climb onto the porch when Mustang speaks again.

“With your skill, I would’ve thought you would just alchemize the lock into the correct position.”

His matter of fact voices grates on Ed’s nerves and he makes sure to stomp loudly as he crosses the wooden porch to the door. He claps his hands together then steps around Mustang to slam them against the door. A flash of alchemy later and everything is the way it should be. Ed whips his head around and glares at the bastard’s expressionless face. “Happy now? Was that such a big deal?”

“Actually, yes.” Ed blinks at the unexpected response and takes a step to the side so they aren’t face to face. “As I’m sure you know from Liebert’s research, once a substance is alchemized it’s never the same as it once was.”

Ed’s jaw drops and he shakes his head. He can’t be serious! It was just a stupid door. “The molecular structure is still the _same!_ You know that as well as I do. Just because some idiot found a _tiny_ discrepancy….”

“The molecular structure may be the same but the molecular _integrity_ is shifted.” Mustang’s looking at him like he’s the idiot and it makes Ed’s blood boil. He knows alchemy and Mustang’s overreacting.

“It was a drift of less than half a percent!” If you even believe the research. Yes, it seemed plausible and could explain some of the traces left behind with shoddy alchemy, but still, it’s negligible!

“That may be true.” Mustang stands up straighter and Ed glowers under his superior look. “However, when it comes to the integrity of my home, I have to ask that you refrain from bending it to your will with your off the cuff transmutations.”

Ed blinks in stunned surprise as he processes his words. Is he _actually_ insulting his alchemy? This from the man who apparently built his whole library with it? Ed glares as he snaps back, “Oh, you’re really one to talk.” Mustang gives him a reproachful look and Ed looks away. He won’t admit it—he’d sooner be incinerated—but he got a good look at those bookcases and he could easily tell a _lot_ of work went into creating the arrays for them. Sure he could’ve done the same thing by clapping his hands, but he never would’ve managed that quality without some serious thought first. The traces of alchemy in the wood were virtually nonexistent. Ed glances over to the front door and sees the telltale lines of alchemy in the grain. Very few people would ever be able to pick it out, but it is there. Stupid, bastard Colonel.

Mustang steps by him and finally opens the door that unsurprisingly doesn’t fall apart. He walks inside and after a moment’s consideration Ed shuffles along after him. Ed closes the door and can’t help but stare at it again. Is that what Mustang thinks of him, that he’s careless with his alchemy? Sure there was a time he didn’t think about consequences and of course Mustang knows all about that. But he can’t still think he’s that careless, can he? Ed tries to shrug off the thought because who cares what Mustang thinks? Unfortunately the twisted feeling in his gut is making it perfectly clear that he does.

“Oh, one other thing.” Ed looks over his shoulder to see Mustang’s hanging his coats on the coat rack. His leather shoulder holster comes off next and Ed watches his long fingers work the buckle. “Exactly how long do you plan on following me around?”

“How long will I— What?” Mustang moves toward the hall table and pulls open the drawer. The gun and holster go inside their usual place. Ed stares at Mustang’s back and shakes his head. He couldn’t have known he was following him. He was careful! This bastard can’t know everything! “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” Mustang drops his keys in the bowl on the table then tilts his head when the bowl shifts. He picks up the bowl then pockets the library key he finds underneath. He replaces the bowl then grabs the bag from the restaurant he must’ve put on the table when he first came in. “Come on, Edward, I brought you something to eat. I doubt trailing me all over town left much time for dinner.”

“I wasn’t— Hey!” Ed follows after Mustang as he heads for the kitchen. “I don’t want your date fo—, I mean, leftovers.” Shit, how does he always make him say things he doesn’t mean to? “I don’t need your scraps, Mustang.”

“I wasn’t planning on offering you any.” Mustang sets the bag on the table then goes to the cabinets and pulls out a plate along with a fork from the drawer beneath. He returns to the table and finally locks his eyes on Ed. “But I figured if you were going to skulk around outside the restaurant you might as well try the place so I ordered an extra meal.”

“I wasn’t skulking!” Ed stamps his foot but he knows he’s already been busted. “I was….”

“Spying?” Mustang pulls a takeout container out of the bag. Ed’s determined he won’t be touching it but his conviction wavers when Mustang opens the box and scoops out what looks like pasta onto the plate. It smells amazing, ridiculously amazing, and Ed fells his stomach rumble. “I’m afraid we’ll need to work on your covert operations skills if today was any indication.” Mustang pulls out the chair in front of the plate and motions toward it. “But that can come later. For now, why don’t you eat this while it’s hot and complain at me later?”

“I don’t….” He tries to make himself say he doesn’t want it but he can’t. It smells too good and he hasn’t eaten since he left Mustang’s house this morning. Finally he gives in and shrugs as he makes his way to the table because it would be stupid to waste good food. He drops down in the chair just as Mustang comes over with a glass of water for him in the same Academy glass as before. He looks up to see Mustang’s got a glass of wine for himself then turns his attention to the food.

The plate’s filled with a small tubed pasta that he’s never had before. It’s bigger than macaroni and textured with lines that run the length of its nearly two inch size. He smells garlic and lemon in the sauce along with herbs and what looks like chicken. He takes another whiff then digs in.

It tastes even better than it smells.

He didn’t _want_ to like it since Mustang brought it, but there’s no denying how good the dish is. Before he knows it, he’s shoveling in bite after bite. He’s over halfway through when he notices the two slices of buttered, crusty bread peeking out of the bag. He snatches one up and as he takes a bite he can’t keep the pleased sounds of approval from his lips. Maybe there is something to this expensive restaurant thing, but that’s something he won’t be admitting to Winry anytime soon.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Ed’s head snaps up to see if Mustang’s mocking him but the smile on his lips isn’t his usual smirk. Actually, it’s not like the smile he saw when Mustang was at the restaurant with the woman either. It’s the one he’s only seen here and now he has to wonder if Mustang’s ever like this anywhere else. Why’s he always putting on an act? Ed reaches for the glass of water, takes a sip, then asks, “So what was that anyway? It obviously wasn’t a date.”

Mustang has his wine glass halfway to his lips and his hand jerks when he stops it suddenly. The red liquid sloshes in the glass and Ed’s confused until he realizes he caught him off guard. He can count on one hand the times he’s seen Mustang like that over the years and it usually it involved something General Hughes had said or done. Apparently it _was_ supposed to look like a date. Has he stumbled onto something he wasn’t supposed to? Mustang clears his throat, brings the glass back to his lips for a drink then replies in an even tone. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“You damn well do!” Mustang’s face remains completely stoic which makes Ed even more certain he’s hiding something. “I may not have been on a lot of dates but even I know that was fake.” Ed gives him a knowing look then raises his eyebrows. “Don’t these things normally end with one of the two of you at the other’s house?”

“You’re assuming I’m that forward, Edward, and maybe you need to realize—”

“Stop bullshitting me, Mustang.” Ed uses his fork to scoop up the last bite of food then pushes his plate forward so he can focus on the lying Colonel. “You and I both know that was fake. You were obviously all business. I could tell. What I don’t understand is why bother? If you don’t like the lady, why are you wasting your…. What?” Mustang’s giving him a hard look almost as if he’s grown two heads and he doesn’t know why. He’s not wrong.

“What exactly could you _tell?_ ” Mustang’s voice has that serious tone he knows all too well from when he’d only give him half the story about something. He knows from experience there’s not much point in avoiding the question, though he doesn’t know why he’s asking. “What makes you think I wasn’t being completely genuine?”

Is he serious? Ed shrugs and reaches for the last bit of bread. He munches on it then focuses on Mustang again. “Because you were acting like Colonel Shit again.” Mustang arches an eyebrow and looks less than amused. Ed sighs and tries again. “You weren’t acting the way you do here. You had that fake smile thing going on and you just, looked too…happy?” Ed shakes his head because that’s not quite right either. “I dunno, Mustang. All I know is I’d think if it were a real date, you’d be like you are here. Like you were that night we made dinner.” Ed gives him a more direct look and tries like hell to read the stoic bastard. “Am I wrong?”

Mustang leans back in his chair and turns the wine glass in his hand. He watches the crimson liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen and Ed’s certain he won’t be getting a direct answer. What else is new? The bastard’s probably going to continue to try and convince him he was just being a gentleman again or something which Ed knows is crap. Something else was going on and he’s sick of being treated like a child who isn’t worth tell—

“You’re right.” Ed blinks and his eyes widen when Mustang looks at him with that straight forward, honest look he’s only ever seen sitting at this table. He sets his glass down then turns slightly to face Ed more directly. Ed’s breath catches because he doesn’t have any idea what’s coming next. Mustang doesn’t do this. “I have to admit, I never anticipated you being this perceptive.”

“Hey! I’m not a—” Ed pauses his usual tirade when he sees a hint of a smile on Mustang’s lips. What’s that about? What’s he missing? Mustang, as usual, gives nothing away and maybe that in itself is the key. He doesn’t seem surprised by his outburst and that’s when Ed realizes…it’s a test. He sits back in his chair and turns it all over in his head. Was he trying to piss him off? Why? And what else should he have been “perceiving?”

He thinks about the restaurant and the whole setup that was obviously meant to be seen. It explains why Mustang’s “usual table” would be right by the window. He’s not worried about other women seeing him because as far as Ed knows they’re all fake like this. But for what purpose…? Oh, wait. He sits up straight and looks over at Mustang again who’s still just staring and waiting. “The flowers.” It all makes sense now. “It was about the card she took. And the hug at the end, she put something in your pocket, didn’t she? Is that what this was all about? Passing notes?”

Mustang’s smile broadens and takes Ed off guard. If anything he looks…proud? And Ed has no idea what to do with that so he looks away and reaches for his water glass. He gulps the rest of the water down and tries to ignore the butterfly feeling inside at the thought of Mustang being proud of him. It’s stupid. It’s just stupid.

“We might need to work on your stealth, but there’s obviously nothing wrong with your observational skills.” Ed smiles at the complimentary insult and relaxes. That’s what he expects to hear from the Colonel. Well, at least the insult is.

“So, you do this all the time. Have dates that aren’t really dates?” Is this why he seemed so insulted when Ed implied he was a slut? Is he not? Is everything he’s always heard about him just a huge charade? Ed glances around the kitchen and just like the rest of the house it seems so functional, with the exception of the library and he has no doubt dates wouldn’t be brought in there. Has he completely read Mustang wrong all this time?

“I have more than a few methods of obtaining information.” Ed frowns because that’s not really an answer. Obviously Mustang’s not going to just lay it all out for him. But from the look on his face—somewhere between intrigued and mischievous—he has a feeling if he guesses right he’ll get the answers he wants.

He thinks back over his day and remembers how impressed he was with how Breda was able to talk in circles to get what he wanted and how he thought that might be an asset Mustang had cultivated. Is he doing the same with him now? Is he testing him? If this is some kind of game, he’s more than willing to play. He remembers going into the office earlier and how those two soldiers he didn’t know were joking about Mustang’s dates. Obviously they had no clue what they really were. But wasn’t Falman trying to stop him? It was almost like he was trying to cover for….

“Warrant Officer Falman and Sergeant Fuery know about this stuff too, don’t they?” If they do, he’s certain Hawkeye would. Breda and Havoc probably would too. Has this stuff always been going on right under his nose without his ever noticing? Why didn’t he realize?

“They aren’t privy to details.” Mustang’s eyes glint as he smiles again and Ed feels the corners of his own mouth turning up. It’s like he’s finally being let in on a long running inside joke. “But they are aware of the system that’s in place, at least in generalities.”

Which means they know Mustang’s not just cutting early to chase skirts. Ed shakes his head and again wonders how this all went on right under his nose for years. Mustang had this same reputation in East City. Just how far do this man’s connections go? He remembers wondering that before, especially when he’d come in to report and find Mustang on the phone with who he thought were girlfriends. There were occasions the conversations sounded interesting…but he doesn’t remember ever figuring out what they were about. He was always so mad at Mustang back then.

Wait a minute.

Ed’s head snaps to the side to look at Mustang again and his eyes widen at the familiar smirk on his lips. He was doing the same thing earlier that he always has, insulting him. But until now Ed was never able to get past it. Ed’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open as it all finally snaps into place. “You did it on purpose! All those times, all those cracks about my height and age…. You were just trying to get me pissed off to distract me!”

“Mmmmm.” Mustang folds his hands on the table and looks down at them seriously. Ed stares at him until he lifts his head and when he does he doesn’t miss the devious glint in his eyes. “I suppose that particular tactic might not be quite as effective from here on out, will it?”

“Bastard,” Ed curses under his breath but smiles despite himself. He’s still annoyed at him, but not nearly as much as before. It’s different this time, being in the know, almost as if they’re on a level playing field. Right now it just makes him want to know more. He leans toward him and motions in the air with his hand. “So? What did she give you? Anything interesting?”

Mustang arches an eyebrow and leans back in his chair. From the look on his face, Ed’s pretty sure he wasn’t planning on filling him in. But if they’re in this together, they need to share information, right? Mustang reaches for his glass and takes a sip of wine before focusing on him again. “I think you’re onto something with your mythological research, Edward.”

“Yeah?” Ed thinks back to his earlier research in the library and glances away when his cheeks heat at the memory of naked dancers and his mental image of Mustang among them. He presses his thighs together under the table and wills his mind not to go down that path again. He rubs the back of his neck and tugs sharply at his hair in order to focus on the now. “What makes you think that?”

“I recently saw mention of a ‘local compendium’ that seemed to be of interest to people higher up in command.” Ed turns his attention to him again. Mustang’s face is a mask of seriousness, all traces of amusement or mischievousness wiped away. Ed sits up straighter and nods for him to continue. “I don’t have any details on what exactly it was referring to so I had a source of mine who works at a local bookstore look into what this might be. I asked that they particularly look into local legends and perhaps compile a list that we might be able to use.”

“Oh, really?” Ed leans forward expectantly. More references and direction would definitely be helpful considering right now it almost feels like looking for a specific screw in one of Winry’s piles of junk. There’s so many tales which vary and change with the folklore in every region of the country. How can they possibly know where to look? He hadn’t even looked at anything that originated in Central yet. It’s such a modern city compared to others and he didn’t think there would be much to find. Was he wrong?

Mustang reaches into his pants’ pocket and pulls out what looks to be a card. Is that what the woman gave him? He must’ve moved it from his coat pocket earlier. He presses the card to the table then pushes it toward him with one finger. Ed looks down at the short message written in a distinctly feminine hand and frowns because it’s not what he expected at all.

 _Sold out_.

That’s it? That’s the whole secret message? Couldn’t the lady have just told him that or was she not the one who wrote it? Ed picks up the card and turns it over. The other side lists the name of a bookstore he’s actually familiar with from a year or so ago. He and Al found a couple texts there they weren’t able to find in the Central Library. If he remembers right it was an older lady who owned it. Ed tilts his head and brushes the edge of the card against his chin.

What if it wasn’t an accident those books weren’t in the Central Library? They weren’t in plain sight in the store either, but after she heard him and Al talking about them she found them “misplaced” under the counter. Was that a lucky coincidence or could a certain Colonel have been involved? Ed looks over at him but he’s not giving anything away. Could this be the same thing? Could “sold out” mean that someone came and bought up _all_ the books on local legends? Is that even possible?”

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Ed turns the card over to stare at the script once more then looks over at Mustang again. His demeanor’s all business and that answers his question immediately. They’re onto something and someone wants to make sure they don’t find it. Ed scowls at the thought of people besides Mustang looking over his shoulder and watching his every move. “Do they know we’re doing this?”

“I doubt it.” Ed blinks at the certainty in Mustang’s voice. How can he be so sure? He’s about to object then thinks better of it. Mustang reaches out to pull the card from his fingers then finishes off his wine. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket then lights the corner of the card and once it’s completely gone up in flames, he drops it into the empty glass. “I’ve not spoken to anyone about your theories and considering we’ve never actually worked together before I doubt anyone is listening in on you….” Mustang meets his eyes and the weight of his gaze is palpable as he adds, “Yet.”

Ed nods at the implication. Wasn’t it only a couple days ago he was thinking Mustang was insanely over paranoid? Now, in light of all this, he’s beginning to understand why he’s so cautious. He and Al will need to be a little more careful with their conversations. He should probably also have a talk with that loud mouthed Prince too. They don’t need things messed up because he’s only concerned about himself.

He watches the card curl in on itself as it burns and turns to ash. A small tendril of smoke drifts up from the glass as the fire sputters and dies and Ed wonders at Mustang’s apparent network of informants. Have all his “dates” only been a means of exchanging information? That puts him in a whole new light. He’s never thought much about what Mustang does but since he’s been coming over to his house he’s discovered he apparently goes into his office early every day, and if this week has been a normal one, he comes home late. Now it seems his “dates” are nothing more than meetings with spies. Does he ever do anything besides work? Has he ever?

“So, all these meetings with women….” He turns his focus from the glass back to Mustang who’s giving him a bored look. He may not want to discuss this anymore, but Ed wants to know if he’s right. “It was the same back East? They were all just a cover for something else?”

“Yes, Edward.” Mustang sighs in a way Ed’s very familiar with, but he doesn’t let it deter him. The bastard isn’t going to distract him this time. “I believe we’ve already covered this.”

“So that means you aren’t doing what everyone thinks you are.” Mustang actually rolls his eyes and Ed grins slowly. He obviously doesn’t know where he’s going with this.

“No, Edward. I’m usually too busy to—”

“So that means you should actually consider my proposition from the other night.”

It’s not often he sees Mustang surprised. Angry, annoyed, he sees those all the time and they’re usually directed at him. He’s seen him pensive, focused, and commanding more times than he can count when dealing with military rules and regulations. He’s even seen him relaxed and happy on a few occasions he wasn’t really a part of, namely in the bar with his men and once when he didn’t know Ed was watching and he was playing outside with Black Hayate. Come to think of it, he doesn’t know if he’s ever seen this particular expression on his face: eyes wide, lips parted, and eyebrows up so high they’re hidden by the long messy spikes of his hair.

“That…that’s out of the question.”

“Why?” Ed scowls as Mustang obviously tries to compose himself. Why’s he so flustered? “What’s the big deal, Mustang?” Mustang looks away and Ed feels his ever present temper flare. “Don’t even tell me you’re not interested. I think you made it perfectly clear the other night that that’s not true.”

“I most certainly did not.” Ed narrows his eyes and Mustang turns his attention down to the cuff of his sleeve. He unbuttons it, rolls it up a few times, then starts to do the same with the other. He’s obviously fidgeting and Ed has no idea why. “I’m not discussing this, Edward. Now drop it.”

“And why not?” Mustang’s still not meeting his eyes and he tries to stay calm, he really does, but it’s not happening. He remembers the way Mustang leaned into his kiss, the soft groan he made, and he knows damn well he was into it. It surprised him at the time but he’s had plenty of time to think about it since. Mustang liked kissing him and now…. “If this is about my age—”

“I told you to drop it, Fullmetal.”

Ed jumps out of his chair and bares his teeth. He fists his hands and shakes with rage. He might expect this from someone else but _not_ Mustang! He knows what he’s been through. He knows better than anyone, or at least he should! “You fucking bastard! Don’t play that shit with me. If you’re gonna sit there and call me a child, I’m leaving and I’m not fucking coming ba—”

“You do realize, you’re not helping your case right now, don’t you?” The smug, condescending look on Mustang’s face has Ed ready to slam his fist into it but somehow he holds himself back. “I said nothing about your age.” Mustang meets his eyes directly and Ed can tell he’s getting the truth, or at least something close to it. “However, you are a soldier under my command and it’s inappropriate.”

“This from the man trying to overthrow High Command himself.” Mustang’s eyes harden and Ed can tell he’s not going to get anywhere with him directly, even if it’s all bullshit. He’s making excuses. Ed’s made too many himself not to recognize it in someone else. But why? He’s conceded it’s not his age. Why won’t the damn bastard let his guard down? Even when he’s off duty he’s still got his walls all around him. Ed’s seen a few cracks, like when they were cooking together, but for the most part he never drops those damn masks of his. Maybe if he could get him to relent just a little he might stop with all the games. Ed rubs his forehead then shoots a hopeful look Mustang’s way. “Hey, all this crap is giving me a headache. Do you think maybe you could—”

“No.”

Ed sighs in frustration but he’s not giving up. Maybe if Mustang had said he wasn’t interested or wasn’t attracted to him, but that’s not what he said. He’s made excuses and Ed knows from experience excuses only hide the truth. Part of him still feels weird that he’s having these feelings about the Colonel, but he has them and why should they deprive themselves? It makes no logical sense. Mustang’s too busy to find anyone else and, so far, Mustang’s the only one who’s ever…made him have these feelings. Why does the bastard have to make everything so damn difficult?


	10. Chapter 10

Roy adds another report to the growing pile on his desk then turns his eyes toward the other stack that’s still over two inches high. He pulls a report from the top then glances to the open pocket watch sitting on the desk to his right. Did he read that correctly? He gives the watch another look but the finely crafted hands don’t budge as they reveal it’s already after seven o’clock. Roy shakes his head and sighs. Where does the time go? It seems like the more work he does, the more there is to do. It’s already a strong possibility he’ll be late meeting Ed, but considering Ed couldn’t be on time again this morning he’s not feeling guilty. It’ll probably do him good to be the one on the waiting end for once.

He rolls his shoulders then tilts his head side to side to fight the tightening in his neck and shoulders from too many hours at the desk. Most of his staff cleared out over an hour ago. Hawkeye probably left around six thirty to go look after Hayate but he didn’t bother checking the time. He glances over to the never ending stack of papers to review and shakes his head once more. There’s no way he’ll make his way through that pile today or probably even tomorrow. He’ll just do one more which shouldn’t put him too late for meeting Ed at the café. He wants to make a point about tardiness without going so far that Ed’s too angry to listen. Ed’s always easier to work with if he’s pushed just to the limit and not over it which is something Roy’s become a master at over the years.

He turns his attention back to the report in front of him and sees it’s another progress report on the ongoing maintenance of Central’s waterways. He rubs a hand across his eyes and attempts to focus on the dry, pointless babble. It’s nothing but an exhaustive account of routine procedure that he’s looked over countless times before. He’s not sure why he was assigned all this mind numbing paperwork concerning the city’s subterranean water system but he has a strong suspicion it’s probably just to keep him busy. He’s not an engineer, but he has no doubt if he ever misses something he’ll be held responsible so he squints at the report and forces himself to process the entire five pages of dense, small font. It’s only on the last page his attention wanders.

Roy smiles when he sees mention of a particularly brilliant, young engineer who apparently devised the solution to a problem that arose since the last report. He’s seen this engineer referenced several times before but only in one of two ways: a commendation or a stern rebuke. It seems the talented young man is quite a hothead when things don’t go his way, but he always turns things around by being able to solve problems no one else can. He reminds him of a certain alchemist and every time he sees the grudging praise written from his superior it makes him smile because he can relate.

He hastily scribbles his name in approval of the work at the bottom of the last page and wonders what exactly Ed’s up to tonight. He called and left a message when Roy was in a lunch meeting and he can’t help but wonder if he somehow did it on purpose. When he called him back to find out why they needed to talk over dinner in public he just answered with, “You need to eat, don’t you?” The only other thing he could get out of him was that he wanted to tell him about some research pertaining to something he and Havoc had discussed. He wasn’t even aware Ed had talked to Havoc, much less discussed ideas with him. He wanted to try and get over to the hospital to ask Havoc about it until a courier arrived with this latest stack of “time sensitive reports.”

“Time sensitive reports my ass,” he mutters under his breath as he adds the current file to the finished pile. He knows it’s all busywork. But if they actually think they can keep him in line with stacks of reports then he really is ahead of the game. He’s dealt with Ed and his messes on top of his own ambitions for years. The only thing he hasn’t figured out yet is if Ed is going to try and turn this meeting into another attempt at propositioning him. He still doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but it’s not making things any easier. He’s starting to wish he’d never pulled out his alkahestry glove in the first place. Everything goes back to that and he’s not sure what to do about it. Ed’s obviously taken with him now, for whatever reason, and he’s tired of being badgered about it.

Roy reaches out and grabs a few dozen of the unread reports then shoves them into an empty folder. He can finish these at home after hearing whatever Ed has to say. He’s not looking forward to this meeting especially since Ed’s tried more than once to “logic” Roy into giving into his advances. Maybe on some level the scenario is acceptable for Ed. But it’s not for him. People may assume he’s a promiscuous ladies’ man, but nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s a rumor he’s cultivated easily probably because it’s so far removed from his true self. Sure he can seduce someone if necessity warrants it, but even that is nothing but another deceit. He’s so used to playing games that seduction is only one more to add to the list. That’s what Ed doesn’t understand and he’s just going to have to find a way to put him off.

He picks up his pocket watch and closes it then shoves it into his pocket. There is a way he might be able to get Ed to understand, but there’s no way he’ll do it. Not with Fullmetal. Knowing him, he’d probably find a way to use it against him. Either that or he’d mock him and that’s not something he’d ever stand for, not in this situation. He probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. He’s just “Colonel Shit” to him, right? Like he’d have any understanding of lost loves and a real, deep connection. Ed may remind him of his past, but that’s all it is, a reminder. They have no connection and absolutely nothing in common. That’s why he won’t take him up on his offer. It would be doomed to failure.

Roy stands then turns around to pull his coat off the back of his chair. He was so busy this afternoon he didn’t even bother hanging it up properly. He shakes out the wrinkles then slides on the comfortable, long garment. He shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes late in meeting Ed. That should be more than enough time to get his point about punctuality across. He reaches back for the folder of reports—

“Roy.”

He whips around quickly and his eyes widen at the person standing in the doorway of his inner office. How did he not hear her come in? Was he actually _that_ distracted thinking about Ed? He still should’ve heard her coming through the common area of the outer office. He blinks because this isn’t something she’s ever done but once, and that was only because she was concerned about her husband….

“Gracia. I didn’t realize you were coming by.” He casts a quick glance to the darkness outside the window and frowns. Why would she be out so late, and why would she be here of all places? Is something wrong? He turns to look at her again and he’s unable to keep the urgency out of his voice. “Is Elysia alright? Has something happened?”

“Something’s happened alright, but it has nothing to do with her.” Her eyes are unreadable, along with her expression, and Roy suddenly feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Or maybe it was something he didn’t do. He’s been meaning to visit her, but just hasn’t been able to bring himself to do it. He knows he’d be expecting Maes to be there and it’s not something he was ready to face. “We need to talk.”

“Of course.” Roy motions to the couch to her right and turns to move toward it. “If you’d like to sit down—”

“I wouldn’t.” Roy freezes at the artic tone to her voice and he feels like he’s missing something. The random thought turns through his mind that he hasn’t made an identification cue with her, but he never though there would be a need. The monsters wouldn’t know every aspect of their lives, would they? Not to mention that would’ve required going to see her and having an actual conversation. “I’d prefer it if you’d stay over there as well.”

Roy nods and takes a step behind the desk. He hesitates then finally sits down again in an effort to relinquish all control of the situation to her. Gracia’s never been one who was intimidated by anyone, least of all him, but it can’t hurt to try and come off as more cooperative. “Alright. What can I do for you?”

“You can start by telling me if murdering that young woman in my husband’s name made you feel any better.” Roy sucks in a sharp breath because that was the last thing he expected to hear from her, but why not? It’s been all over the papers. Of course she must’ve seen it, and he can’t even explain it to her. “Wasn’t it enough you took his life? Did you have to exact your vengeance on the first person you could find? Do you actually think that’s how he would’ve wanted it?”

“No, I mean, of course not….” His words stumble over each other in a way they never do. His mouth’s dry and his throat feels like it’s closed off from the huge knot inside. Is that how she really feels? That he killed him? Didn’t she know Hughes had promised.... But still, it’s not like he pulled the trigger! “I didn’t—”

“Don’t even start.” She puts up her hand and he’s almost glad she’s standing in the shadows of the dark outer office because it means he can’t see her face clearly. The hard look he saw in her eyes earlier was enough. “It was always about you. You and those boys and now thanks to you my daughter has to grow up without a father. As if that weren’t bad enough, I have to read articles in the paper about how you “avenged” _your_ “comrade” in a blaze of glory. So I ask you again, did it feel good to burn another human being? Are you at peace now? What if she wasn’t even the one?!”

Roy bows his head and swallows hard around the suffocating lump that’s causing his chest to tighten as well. He considers telling her the truth, but what would it matter? She doesn’t need to know. It would only endanger Maria Ross and potentially Gracia as well. It’s not the point anyway. The point is…she’s right. He’s known it all along but hasn’t wanted to face the whole truth of it. Maes was trying to help Ed, and him, and it got him killed. His last phone call, his last words were to him, or at least they were meant to be. No matter what that isn’t right. Not for a man like Maes.

“I’m sorry.” The words sound hollow, even to his own ears, and he almost wishes he could take them back. It feels like he’s mocking her pain and that’s the last thing he ever wanted to do. Over the many years he’s known her, he’s rarely seen her angry. She’s always been a quiet, joyful woman, a counterbalance to Hughes’ over the top personality. He’s never been good at this but in the face of Gracia crumbling at the seams, he’s even more at a loss. Dammit, Hughes, help me. I don’t know how to do this!

“And that of course makes everything alright. The great Colonel Mustang’s sorry.” The mocking quality to her voice is something he’s never heard from her, not once. Something in the back of his mind tells him it’s wrong but he ignores it. Pain can change people, even sweet, caring people like Gracia. What right does he have to doubt her anguish? “I’ll be sure to tell my daughter that the next time she asks when her father’s coming home.”

Roy winces at the barb and lifts his head just a fraction. He was named Elysia’s godfather, with much reluctance on his part, and insane exuberance on Hughes’. What kind of godfather has he been? He hasn’t been to see them since the funeral. He hasn’t done anything but throw himself into his work. She’s right. “I’m sorry” isn’t enough. He looks across the room illuminated only by his desk lamp and swears for an instant he sees a malicious grin on her face, but in the next moment it’s lost to the shadows. He still can’t shake the feeling of wrongness, but he doesn’t care. Either way the words are true and he won’t argue with them. His gaze ends up at her feet and he idly wonders if he’s ever seen her wear heels quite like that before.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t have anything to say now that you’re done playing executioner.” Roy keeps his head bowed and watches as her feet turn around to leave. “Just remember when you’re feeling like the great avenging martyr that there’s a little girl growing up without a father.” Her heels make a clack-clack sound with each step as she walks away and he remains motionless until they suddenly disappear. Who’s looking after Elysia? Not her father…in the ground all too soon and he doesn’t remember either of them having family in the city. She must’ve gotten a sitter all to confront him.

He sits motionless in the silence, waiting for anything to break it but nothing does. The only thing he hears is his own breathing and the slight creaks in the leather of his chair. His mind races from one thought to the next, apologies, regrets, what-ifs. A master planner and he didn’t plan for this. She’s gone and for all he knows never wants to see him again. He can’t blame her. Why would she want to see someone who put her husband in danger—a danger she never signed up for—especially considering right now he can’t stop picking apart the entire encounter?

Roy shakes his head violently then pushes out of his chair. He stalks around the desk then closes the door firmly behind himself as he leaves the inner office. He pauses only to lock it then heads out across the dark outer office. His mind spins and he tries to make it stop because he doesn’t have the right to be thinking these things. But how can he not? He’s never known Gracia to go out and leave Elysia at night, not this late. It is possible she could’ve found a sitter, but why would she come all the way to his office? She knows where he lives. Why not accost him there instead of coming here. As far as he knew she didn’t even know where his new office was since he transferred after Maes’ death.

She could’ve found out, the voice in the back of his head whispers. She could’ve come to his office to make it even more impersonal as if they were nothing but strangers. But why would she bother? And how would she know he would be working late? Roy hurries through the dark hallways as quickly as he can. He needs air, space, and to find a way to make his mind _stop_. He shouldn’t be thinking this way, but if it wasn’t her he wouldn’t have to feel so damn guilty.

He rushes down the stairs and barely notices the cleaning woman he passes. Usually he would. Usually he’d take enough time to know if they were someone who belonged or at least get enough of a look to be able to identify them later. But right now he doesn’t notice anything but the screaming in his own head. He should’ve done more. He should’ve been more informed. Maybe if he had been he could’ve prevented this. Maes shouldn’t have gotten involved in all of this. He was supposed to have Roy’s back all the way to the top. Why couldn’t he have had Maes’?

After all this time, he finally understands.

The need, the drive, to take control of life, to seize it with your own hands and bring back what’s been taken. This must be how Ed felt. The desperation claws at his throat, crawling up from the depths of his soul. He can imagine it, the lines traced across the floor, his blood, his ultimate sacrifice, if only to make the world whole again after all that’s gone wrong. He could do it. With all he’s studied about the body he knows he could. The temptation calls to him so strongly….

He shoves open the front glass doors and heads down the marble steps to the park. He can get his car later. Right now he just needs to walk, to push the array drawing itself repeatedly in his head back into a corner, and the park is a decent enough place to out run his demons. There’s even a certain amount of irony to it. He rushes down the stairs and the little voice inside whispers again. It would be easy. He knows the theory. He could make it work. He sees the lines scrawled across the cobblestones that would bring things full circle, life from death. It could work…or he could end up with a creature like the one that woman in Resembool said she buried when Ed tried the same thing.

Roy rushes down the path lit with tall light poles and his mind still spins with what-ifs. He’s a different alchemist than Ed. He’d look at things from all sides but deep in his gut he knows it wouldn’t matter. Death is final. He’s understood that all his life and nothing’s going to change that now. He glances around the surprisingly secluded park and his insides twist knowing this is where Hughes bled out on the ground and he won’t be coming back. Part of him screams he can change it but he knows he has to face the truth. He has to face it again and again to stop thinking about futile arrays or confronting Gracia to know if their entire encounter was really real.

But how can he possibly do that? What kind of monster would that make him? Sure it’s possible that it wasn’t really her in his office, that all the inconsistencies are due to that creature’s impersonation. But would it even know her? And why would it bother? Could it be trying to verify that Maria Ross is dead? No, Dr. Knox took care of that. The only possibility is that it was to torture him, but would a monster like that even bother? And if it actually _was_ Gracia, lost to pain and needing to vent, what kind of a self-deluded monster would he be to doubt her to her face with outlandish stories about shapeshifters?

No. He won’t face her again. He won’t take the risk. He’ll see about finding a way to supplement her widow’s pension if he can, but he won’t face her again. He won’t take the chance of reopening her wounds and making things worse to just assuage his own conscience. He of all people doesn’t deserve that, especially when deep inside he’s still working through the damned equations he’ll never use. He’s done enough damage to this world, he won’t add to it. 

He walks blindly through the park, not caring where the paths take him and he sees the area at the edge of the tree line where that family was having lunch the other day. Did Maes used to have lunch in a place like this with his girls? Would they come out here and meet him when he could get away? He remembers thinking about how Hughes probably would’ve pestered him to no end. How could he be so narcissistic and naïve? He wasn’t the center of Hughes’ attention. He never was. And now there will never be another picnic in the sun for his little girl with her daddy. No one to come after her and hold her hand. He may be her godfather in name but he’d never attempt to step into the empty space left behind. He doesn’t need to taint her innocence with his bloody hands.

Roy looks away sharply and keeps walking. He needs to keep moving. But then he passes the pond, the surface smooth and jet black under the cover of night, and he can almost see the father and son feeding the ducks that are no longer there. He hears the boy’s laughter which suddenly turns higher pitched and more feminine. Maes would’ve done that with Elysia. He probably would’ve done something silly like making up names for the ducks and created some outlandish story about them too. He can imagine Elysia clinging to his hand and begging for another story or maybe for a treat. Maes would scoop her up and….

He has to stop this.

But his mind has other plans. Everywhere he looks he can see something else he helped rob Hughes’ daughter of. She’ll never fly kites with him over the water or chase after butterflies with his encouragement. They’ll never climb trees together or have a picnic or so many other things they could do. He’s heard that many young girls take their wedding pictures out by the water and that’s another thing where she won’t have a father by her side. And Garcia…how much has she lost having to try and fill two parents’ shoes? He knows Maes took her to concerts in the park when they were dating. He told Roy all about the music under the stars and how he should do the same with a wife of his own. Why? Why didn’t he realize he needed to protect Hughes just as much as his own men?

He turns away from the pond and the surrounding open areas and follows another cobblestone path. The grooves in the stone remind him once again of the array but he pushes the thought back, and it’s easier this time. Hughes knew what he was doing, just like he does. He made his own choices. They all do. It’s part of the life they chose to live. He tells himself this again and again as he pauses under a canopy of trees. But then he stops short as he’s suddenly confronted with the definitive evidence of his denial. 

How many times has he told himself that phone box was nothing but a phone box? Just a place and nothing more? How many times has he lied to himself that he would rather think of Maes’ life and not his death? No. He was avoiding his death and now that it’s staring him straight in the face he can’t lie to himself anymore. It’s not just another place and it’s not alright. This is the place his best friend bled out on the ground, alone, trying to reach him.

And he wasn’t there.

Roy turns with a jerk and he doesn’t care where he’s going as long as it’s away from here. He moves off the path, making his way under the dark cover of the trees and he wants to get lost, to disappear. He knows he can’t hide from the truth, but he can run from it for a little while. He moves through the trees until he finds himself in an area he’s never been before. It’s off the main trail, it’s secluded, and it’s dark. It’s exactly what he needs. He staggers toward an old bench that doesn’t look like it sees much maintenance and drops down onto it. The worn wood doesn’t look like the more modern benches on the paths and he wonders if this one’s just been forgotten with time…until he realizes it doesn’t matter. None of it does.

He bends over double on the bench and covers his face with his hands. Hot tears drip through his fingers and he can’t pretend they’re rain this time, not that it matters. There are no appearances to keep in the dark. His breath hitches in his chest and the pain is sharp and foreign. He never lets himself do this. Even over multiple glasses of whiskey, sitting alone in the dark in his library, a few tears may fall, but it’s nothing like this. This is a hard, wracking sob lodged deep in his chest and burns all the way up his throat where he gasps for breath. He doesn’t do this. Not since he was a child. Not since Ishval when he lost….

No. Won’t go there. Maes is enough. He can’t open up that wound too. It’s just too mu—

“Mustang? Is that you?”

Fullmetal? No. Fuck. He can’t find him like this. Roy sucks in a sharp breath but it just turns into a choking cough. Shit, shit, this is why he never lets his guard down. He can’t afford to! He can’t _ever_ afford to. He wipes at his face with both hands but it does no good since they’re both wet from his tears. He uses the edge of his coat and turns away from the approaching shadow. He sees a tiny stream trickling by a few feet from the bench—he didn’t know that was there—and he wonders if he can blame the sound of his tears on the stream. Fullmetal couldn’t have seen. He couldn’t. Either way he’ll just deny it.

“That is you.” Roy hears tiny twigs snap in the grass under Ed’s heavy steps and he fights to control the turmoil inside that wants to spill down his cheeks again. “What are you doing all the way out here? We were supposed to meet for—”

Roy winces when the words suddenly cut off. What he’d give for sarcasm or some scathing retort about being late for dinner, anything but silence. Silence means he sees. Silence means he knows and that’s unacceptable. Roy swallows around the hard lump in his throat but he’s still not convinced he can keep his voice even. He has to try. “I’m sorry, I had better things to do than—” His voice wavers and he takes a slow breath to even it out. His eyes are still burning, but surely Ed can’t see that in the dark. Roy’s frustration with himself grows and he snaps. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re never late.” Ed makes the statement like it’s an answer for everything and Roy grits his teeth. He watches the tiny trickle of water, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight through the trees, wind its way over smooth stones. In other circumstances it might be peaceful, but now its tranquility mocks his pain like acid on an open wound.

“Maybe I was trying to teach you a lesson on punctuality. One of these days you need to lear—”

“Cut the crap, Mustang. You think I can’t tell?” Ed’s voice should be harsher, angrier, but it’s not and it makes Roy wince again. He doesn’t want his sympathy. He doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy. He doesn’t deserve it, but even if he did he wouldn’t want it from Fullmetal!

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab—” But before he can finish getting the words out an automail hand presses against his cheek and turns his head toward him. Roy tries to fight the touch but Ed brings his other hand to his other cheek and forces him to face him. Ed leans forward and locks his eyes with Roy’s. His face is stubbornly set and Roy tries once more to look away until he realizes it’s useless without completely pushing Ed away. He considers it until he realizes it won’t matter. His shoulders slump and he finally looks back into Ed’s intense golden gaze.

“I told you. I can tell.” Roy tries to look away again until cool automail presses more firmly against his cheek and he relents and looks down. “You think I haven’t been there? Me of all people?” His voice’s still forceful and strong but there’s a difference to it. It’s softer and not in a way he’s ever heard but with his brother. Is that what it’s come to, him being catered to like Ed does with his brother? “Damn it, Mustang, look at me.”

But he won’t. He can’t. He didn’t even break down this way with Hughes…except that once and he was blind drunk with grief at the time. He doesn’t lean on anyone. If the Madame taught him anything, it was that life isn’t fair and the only one you can truly rely on is yourself. He can’t be taking solace in anyone, least of all Ed.

“Fine. Don’t look. You can still listen.” Roy’s shoulders slump a bit more when Ed doesn’t relent but it doesn’t matter. He can say what he wants and Roy can ignore it later and pretend this night never happened…with the exception of Gracia. He can’t ever forget that.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fallen apart when Al wasn’t watching? How many times I found a place just like this?” Roy does his best to harden himself against his words because he doesn’t understand. He was a child when he made his mistakes. He didn’t destroy an innocent family. He doesn’t know what it is to be completely alone. He has his brother and the Rockbell girl.

“I wasn’t falling apart. I just wanted to teach you—”

“Cut the shit, Mustang!” Ed pulls his hands away and Roy inwardly curses the way he misses his touch. This is the way it should be. He sees Ed’s feet shift in the long grass and he can imagine the frustration on his face. He’ll be mad, but that’s something Roy can deal with. “Dammit, don’t you get it? I understand!”

He shouldn’t react. He knows that, but something inside him snaps at the certainty to Ed’s words. Roy tries to suppress the intense feeling building inside because it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to expose himself any more to Fullmetal. If he can just ignore him long enough, Ed will just get pissed and leave. But the war inside him rages higher and beats against his tight control because what right does this _child_ have to compare himself to him? Ed made a mistake. Roy slaughtered thousands. He betrayed his closest friend and his family. How can Ed _possibly_ understand _that_?!

“No you don’t!” The traitorous words slip from his lips and as they do they open the floodgate he was trying so hard to hold back. His head snaps up and he shoots him a look full of rage and raw pain. Ed stands straighter and Roy’s lips curl in a bitter smile when he takes half a step back. “You made a mistake. A childish miscalculation. I _KILLED_ indiscriminately. How can you possibly understand that?” His voice turns even harsher and he can’t restrain his wrath as he uses his words like weapons. “I’m sorry some sick bastard tried to mess with you, but it’s not the same as living through war. I’m sorry you locked your brother in a suit of armor, but you didn’t kill him. You didn’t destroy his family. You didn’t KILL HIM!”

Roy closes his eyes and waits for the punch across his jaw. It’s a court martial offense to strike a superior officer but he won’t report it. He deserves it for being so harsh with Ed, but he couldn’t help it. His anger’s already cooling and he knows his words weren’t fair but they weren’t meant to be. They were meant to make him leave him alone and stop saying things that aren’t true. What he doesn’t understand, though, is why the punch and ensuing screams haven’t come. Instead he feels a soft touch against his cheek and that startles him enough to open his eyes.

Ed’s close again, very close, so much so Roy can feel his breath against his lips. Ed’s leaning down so their eyes are level but that’s not what makes him catch his breath. It’s the look in Ed’s eyes that’s etched with raw, deep pain. Roy pulls back slightly but Ed doesn’t take his hand away. Instead his eyes soften more and Roy has to wonder where his brash, young subordinate went because this isn’t him. This is a mature young man who’s seeing far too much for Roy’s liking.

“You didn’t kill him, Mustang. No more than I did.” Ed’s words aren’t mocking, far from it. There’s a deep understanding Roy instantly recognizes. Haven’t they had this same conversation in the reverse? Roy tries to shake his head but Ed stops him by cupping his face with his other hand. “You didn’t. It’s the life we chose, remember? You didn’t kill him.”

Roy stares into Ed’s all too knowing eyes then forcibly pulls back. He shakes his head and curls his fingers against the bench at his side. It wasn’t Ed’s fault, but he and Ed have a different level of responsibility. He knows Ed won’t listen to that even though it’s true. He needs to give him something he’ll believe, something he can’t disagree with. “Maybe, maybe not.” He looks to meet Ed’s eyes again and attempts to harden his own. “But you weren’t in Ishval. You didn’t see how many I _did_ kill there.”

Ed stands up straight and it doesn’t surprise him. With the black and white way he usually sees things he’s probably disgusted with Roy now. Good. It’ll make things easier. Roy sighs softly and looks toward the stream again. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. Maybe he and Ed just weren’t meant to work together.

“Yeah, well, knowing you, I’m sure you were doing it to save others.”

Roy’s head whips around and his mouth drops open in shock. He can’t know that. He can’t possibly know and why would he ever think that? He should be horrified by all that he did, not giving him the benefit of the doubt. He wants to refute him but…he’s right. Every time he snapped his fingers in that sandy hell it was to try and protect his own men. How could Ed possibly know that? Did he hit his head somewhere? Is this whole night some type of crazy dream? Is this really Ed?

“What is this, Mustang? What happened?” Roy blinks and finds Ed giving him a look that’s much too perceptive for his liking. Ed takes a step closer, but this time he goes down on one knee. He ends up a little lower than eye level with Roy and Ed stares intensely at him. “This isn’t you. What happened? What did this to you?”

Roy looks away again because he doesn’t want to have this discussion, not with anyone. But he knows that look on Ed’s face. He’s looking at him like he’s his latest alchemic puzzle and Roy knows Ed won’t give up until he gets an acceptable answer. Roy sighs deeply then turns his head to face him but instead of looking at him he stares down at the small space between them. “Gracia came to see me at the office tonight.”

“Oh.” That word is soft, breathed almost under his breath and Roy wonders if that will be enough to end this. Knowing Ed though, he doubts it. Roy watches a shaft of moonlight glint off Ed’s automail hand as he clenches and unclenches it slowly. He can imagine the soft metallic sounds he’d hear if the night around them weren’t drowning them out. His hand clenches suddenly once more and his soft words take Roy by surprise. “Was she mad?”

“Yes,” he replies simply and Ed’s silver fingers uncurl again. He doesn’t say anything else and Roy realizes he’s waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t see how he has a choice. “She blamed me for taking him away from Elysia.” He sucks in a breath and he can still hear the rage dripping from her voice. Real or not, it doesn’t matter. He can easily imagine the real Gracia feeling the same even if she never said it. “She blamed me for killing Maria Ross as well.” Roy finally lifts his head to meet Ed’s eyes and he tells him seriously, “Which you know is how things have to be…for safety reasons.”

Ed nods slowly then shakes his head. “That’s not right.” He shakes his head harder and Roy lowers his again. Surely Ed’s smart enough to realize they have to stay silent to ensure her safety. It may not be fair, but it doesn’t matter. “Mustang, that’s not right. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t even blame me.” Roy’s eyes widen. Did he actually go confront her after Maes’ death? Why? “Mustang, did you talk to her? Did she make a signal? Are you sure it was her?”

Roy’s head snaps up once more and he’s surprised again at Ed’s words. He never told him about the silent cues, did he? One of his other men could’ve. Maybe Havoc considering how they seem to be talking now. He could easily see Havoc befriending him that way. But it’s inconsequential now. “No, Edward. It’s possible it wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does!” Ed’s eyes widen and his hand fists on his knee. Roy can read the righteous indignation on his face and it’s almost enough to make him smile. “Mustang, you should ask her. _I_ can ask her! She wouldn’t do that. There’s no reason for you to—”

“No, Edward.” His tone’s flat and he locks his eyes with Ed’s wild ones. He needs to see how serious he is about this but as usual Ed only wants to see what Ed wants to see.

“Why not?” Ed scowls deeply and shakes his head again. “You need to know.”

“No, I don’t.” Ed frowns again but this time gives Roy enough time to continue. “We can move on the assumption it was Envy, but I don’t want her bothered with this.” Ed shakes his head again and starts to argue but Roy cuts him off. “What if it _was_ her, Edward? I won’t take the risk of trivializing her pain to ease my own conscience.” Roy pauses until he’s certain he has Ed’s full attention. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I guess I can see that.” The look on his face makes it clear he doesn’t like Roy’s methods, but at least he understands the logic behind them. Maybe now they can let this go and pretend this whole confrontation never happened. The only problem is Ed’s not getting up and getting out of his way.

“Edward….” Ed turns his attention back to Roy and he can’t read the look he gives him. It’s intense along with something else he can’t name.

“Mustang, why won’t you let anyone in?” His voice is soft, almost as if he were afraid to say the words and maybe that’s the look he didn’t understand. It’s trepidation, maybe even shyness? But why? Ed’s never been that way with him.

“I’m fine, Edward. You don’t need to concern yourself with me.” Ed stares up at him with wide, imploring eyes that suddenly turn much more determined as he stands.

“No, you’re not. No one in your position would be.” Roy blinks and looks up at him because he doesn’t follow. “I get it, you know, the always moving forward, never looking back. I get that. But sometimes you have to look back. Sometimes you have to never forget.” Ed takes a breath and stares him down. “If you don’t, how can you keep from repeating mistakes? We all get weak, Mustang, all of us. If you don’t have anyone to lean on, how can you make sure you’re always seeing clearly? Mustang….” Ed pauses then takes another deliberate breath. “Roy…you don’t have to do this alone. I understand. I-I really do.”

Roy’s breath caught the moment he started speaking because every word he says is true. And he finally remembers the night he found this determined young man and his brother. Blood and pain and grief splattered over the stone floor, transmutation lines obliterated by whatever rebound had occurred. They both know that well of deep despair that would drive a man to do the unthinkable. How could he have forgotten? Is this really the young man he thought he had nothing in common with? How can it be? How can Ed see through him so clearly? Not even Hughes understood all his motivations that Ed seems to read like a book. Only one other person ever did that and he swore he’d never let another in, not ever. But can he really do this alone? It was one thing when Hughes had his back, but now…he really is all alone.

“Edward, I don’t know. I….” He looks toward the stream, still unable to open up enough to face him until cool metal fingers trace over his cheek. He gasps and turns to find Ed’s right in his face again. This time, however, his look is soft, almost tender, a look he never would’ve dreamed Ed could make. What’s going on? What is this?

“Let me in?” His voice trembles unsteadily and Roy feels the ice around his heart begin to melt. Is this all just about physical attraction? Is that what Ed’s trying to do? He slowly shakes his head but Ed traces his fingers over his cheek again anyway. “Mustang, I don’t know what all this is but…it’s not just about the glove, ya know? I mean…I mean, I-I want to help. I want to, you know, be there…if you’ll let me in. Please.”

The last words are so soft he barely catches them, but there’s no questioning their sincerity. How did they get here? He doesn’t even know, but he can’t deny the longing inside him to do as he asks. There’s so many reasons to say no, so many perceived taboos from even considering it. Ed’s not a child, but he is younger and his subordinate. He knows with one look he’s not only asking to be his friend. Ed does everything all the way, Roy’s always known that and he can’t imagine how intense things would be with him, especially considering their volatile history.

But…he understands him. Far better than Ed even knows. And that fact alone is just too hard to deny.

Roy reaches up and covers Ed’s cool hand with his own and his heart skips at the “rightness” he feels at the touch. Ed’s eyes widen at his response and Roy smiles when his lips part with surprise. He tugs lightly at Ed’s hand and when Ed leans forward Roy very lightly touches his lips to his. Ed sucks in a breath and Roy tips his head forward so their foreheads touch as he whispers back to him. “I can try, Edward. I can’t promise, but I can try.”

Ed jerks back suddenly with a gasp and in an instant Roy’s certain he’s read the whole situation wrong. Was he only seeing what he wanted to see? How will he ever explain—but then he sees the look on Ed’s face. It’s filled with wonder and a sweetness he never expected. Ed brushes his thumb lightly against Roy’s cheek and Roy realizes Ed never thought he’d agree. Doesn’t he have any idea how precious this potential gift is? Why wouldn’t he want him?

“I didn’t think….” Roy can only imagine Ed’s blushing from the way he briefly looks down and shifts on his feet. Ed moves closer and surprises him by brushing the hair away from Roy’s forehead with his left hand. “You aren’t alone, Mustang. Not in your mission or in your plan. I understand. Please believe me.”

It’s the sweet sincerity in his voice that finally shatters all the remaining ice around Roy’s heart and his breath hitches in his chest. Emotion hits him like a punch to the gut. It’s been years, so many _years_ since he felt anything this intensely. How can Ed do this to him? How did this happen? How did he ever try to keep him at arm’s length? Maes always told him his subordinate was special. How could he have possibly known the man he would become?

Roy leans forward, unable to help himself, and Ed’s there, just like he somehow knew he would be. He presses his face to Ed’s stomach and he feels strong arms go around him. How long has it been since he’s been held? The barriers are almost painful as they come crashing down around them and his arms tighten around Ed’s waist. His voice cracks as he speaks against the soft fabric of Ed’s shirt and he only hopes he hears him because he knows he can’t repeat himself right now as tears burn his eyes.

“Please…call me Roy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and concrit are always loved and appreciated. :-)


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